


Monstrous

by Deadpuff



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Multi, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:22:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadpuff/pseuds/Deadpuff
Summary: The Entity works in strange ways; it gathers it maims, it kills... it creates. And you are it's newest prize, clay for it's malformed hands.Experience the transformation as you go from survivor, to killer. As it turns out, there are more than two sides to this coin.*Inspired by DrTanner's Oddfellows.





	1. Crowned

**Author's Note:**

> *Warning this fic will contain graphic depictions of violence.

_“Other folk thought the Rage was simple bloodlust, a berserk savagery that neither knew nor cared what its target was, and so it was when it struck without warning. But when a hradani gave himself to it knowingly, it was as cold as it was hot, as rational as it was lethal. To embrace the Rage was to embrace a splendor, a glory, a denial of all restraint but not of reason. It was pure, elemental purpose, unencumbered by compassion or horror or pity, yet it was far more than mere frenzy.”  
― [David Weber](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10517.David_Weber), [Oath of Swords](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/18890)  
  
  
  
  
  
I can feel it. _ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_ A lancing stab of pain through the back of your skull; like the clawed end of a hammer.  
  
  
_Not again.  
_ _  
_ _  
_ That seeping feeling, the rage.  
  
  
_Please stop, God, please, please!  
_ _  
_ _  
_ It’s  like every artery, vein, capillary is burning and wrenching around inside of you. The feeling is downright indomitable.  
  
For a few wrenching heartbeats you think you might die, then it retreats to a sluggish insidious pulsing.  
  
Just like that you’re veiled in it.  
  
Your head snaps to the side- detecting motion; a figure grabs your shoulders. You don't recognize their face, what are they saying?  
  
Their words are grating.  
It’s so annoying.  
They’re shaking you.  
  
_Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me!_ _  
_ _  
_ You seize them by the arm, your hands don’t look like yours. They’re so strong, your hands.  
  
_Why is he yelling? He needs to stop, the sounds, it has to stop._  
  
You shake him, staring him in the face.  
Wait, you know this person.

His face is twisted in pain.  
  
_I’m hurting him!_  
  
You stagger away from him.  
  
“I’m sorry.” You manage.  
  
Another wrenching jab of pain. He’s terrified, but he’s reaching out to you. If you could just overcome this. It would be okay. You just want it to stop.  
Your muscles strain on their own; threatening.  
  
“Go! Get away! I- I can't..!” You snarl, and he turns to run. Why does he have to run?  
  
Your mind blanks again, and you're hurtling after him, you’re so much faster than he is. Hands outstretched, grasping, tearing, hungry. That’s what he gets for running. He didn't need to run. And suddenly it’s quiet again, thank god it’s quiet. He’s stopped. He’s motionless.  
  
You’re crying, your hands are a mess; slathered, bathed in rich red crimson.  
  
But why?  
  
What happened?  
  
The veil is gone and it's just you.   
  
_What did I do?_  
  
  
You sit awake suddenly, forehead beaded with sweat. It takes you a few precious moments to figure out where you are. The campfire, right. Of course. You raise a shaky hand and place it over your pounding heart.  
Beside you someone stirs.  
  
“Hey, you okay?” A gentle hand pats your shoulder, and you turn to see Quentin. Of course it’s Quentin, that boy never sleeps. By the looks of it he had just returned from a trial, you can see that sloppy puncture wound in his left shoulder where a hook has recently resided. It’s slowly closing, red embers flickering at the edges of the wound.  
  
Easing yourself up, you propped your back up against the log that encircled the fire; bathing in the warmth that radiated onto your face. Despite not being replenished it still burned high into the darkened night sky. You watched it for a moment, mesmorized by the flickering of the embers.  
  
“Yeah, just a bad dream.” You said groggily, rubbing your eyes. Your cheeks were wet and streaked with tears. You probably looked like a mess.  
  
“Sorry.” He said after a moment, and you swatted him on the knee.  
  
Quentin was usually your dream-body guard so to speak. The boy never slept, so the moment he saw you drifting off somewhere unpleasant he would generally wake you up. That being said, there were trials to attend, so he couldn't always be at your side.  
  
He hated that.  
  
Being Freddie’s personal victim, he didn’t take lightly to nightmares, especially ones as vivid as yours; it seemed suspicious, almost too similar.   
  
Stretching, you felt a satisfied pop as your joints clicked back into place, and you eased back enough to sit up properly on the log. Across from the fire you could see Feng and Laurie, both fast asleep, faces to the fire. They looked exhausted. Must have been in the trial with Quentin.  
  
When you had fallen asleep it was with Nea and David, but it looks like the fog had taken them to another trial. That’s how it always was, when the Entity wants you, it takes you.  
  
At least it was merciful enough to heal your wounds once you returned, no matter how grievous. You blinked thoughtfully for a moment, before turning to your friend.  
  
“How was it?” You asked, your voice a bit raspy from sleep.  
  
He shrugged his shoulders. “Could have been better, it was Trapper. That guy is…” He shudders, and you watch his hand rest above a slash in his side. It’s healed over, but his shirt still gapes where a wound no doubt resided.  
  
“A monster.” You finished, leaning back with a sigh. For a while you both just sit there, looking up at the inky black sky and the artificial stars that flickered down on you. That was the thing with this place, everything was so close to perfect and yet… so distinctively wrong.  
  
Wherever here was. You felt pressure on your shoulder, and turned to see Quentin leaning into you, head drooping. Poor guy. You put your arm around his shoulder, giving him a few sympathetic pats. He seemed to relax. While Quentin never really let himself sleep, he would enter a sort of… meditative trance.  
  
Kind of like that in between sleep, where you always dream of falling.  
  
You propped a hand up to support the weight of the pair of you, staring wistfully into the treeline.  
All you could see were crows, roosting high above the branches. The fixed you with glittering eyes, curious little shards of shadow. Peace seemed to come to you and you felt your nerves finally begin to settle. You never tried to dwell on you dreams, but they were becoming more and more frequent.   
  
You closed your eyes, humming a soft melody. You couldn't remember where it was from anymore, but you could recall the tune. You began to drift off again, hearing the ghost of your melody being sung back to you by the birds.  
  
You were so tired…  
  
  
  
Coolness caressed your cheeks and you straightened suddenly.  
  
“Shit.”  
  
You had fallen asleep again, and the fog had taken you. Stupid Entity, what did it have against the lot of you getting a little shut eye?   
  
At once you were on your feet, frantically spinning on your heels, where the hell..? Around you stretched the upright walls of a hospital; pail and covered in peeling paper. It even smelled like a hospital. Sterile despite the decrepit condition's.  
  
Rolling your shoulders you took a cautious few steps into the nearest hall. It was eerily quiet. Sitting on a gurney before you was raven, preening its feathers. Creepy.   
  
As you approached, it turned to face you, before hopping off and fluttering a few paces ahead of you.  
Curious.  
  
You followed after it, finding it’s hoping pace across the linoleum tiles surprisingly brisk. It seemed to be going faster a faster, around corners and across maze-like halls. It stopped suddenly, and you rounded a corner to find a generator.  
  
It was active, chugging along placidly. Beside it was a person, crouched and working with methodical hands.   
  
Ace.  
  
You didn't know him well, but he regarded you with a wink. You smiled back, albeit somewhat meekly, and set to work beside him.  
  
It was so quiet.   
  
That was until the roar of a generator punctured the air, followed shortly by you own. Only a few rooms away you heard a jarring feminine scream.   
Footfalls passed up the halls to your left and you wasted no time in turning tail and running. Ace took the lead, vaulting a window, and you followed, hot on his tail.  
  
There was another yelp, this time right behind you, and you felt static rush up your legs.  
What the hell?  
  
Daring to glance over your shoulder you saw him; The Doctor. As soon as you looked he met your eyes, offering you a fiendish giggle. He had Feng by the ankle, and was dragging her back through the window pane.  
  
“Shit, Feng!” You turned, grabbing her hands. But as soon as you touched her a violent shock shook your frame. You both gasped, the sensation causing you to spasm before falling back. She vanished into the dark of the other room.  
  
“Fucking hell.” You hissed, clambering back up to your feet. Where had Ace gone?  
You didn't want to be in this creepy-as-shit place on your own.   
Passing through several rooms, paused only upon hearing a soft caw.  
  
The raven, it was back. It was preening, sat high on a rusted IV pole. At the base was another generator. It too was active, almost fixed in fact. Feng must have been working on it. Or the mysterious fourth. It didn't seem like your group had been here long. Maybe this trial was going to be over quick.   
  
Crouching, you opened the side panel, gasping when a beetle scurried out of the surface. It didn't make it past the raven.  
Ew.  
  
Poking around inside, you felt for a knob, turning the ragged apparatus until it snugly clicked into place. Fortunately that was all that needed to be done, and the generator roared to life. Three done, two to go. We got this.   
turning to leave, the raven swooped over your head, cawing in distress.   
  
What the?  
  
Electricity jolted up your calves, causing your legs to spasm violently. Shit. He found you. A gasping scream forced its way out of your chest, and you took off running. A soft giggle sounded behind you… The Doctor was in.  
  
Racing through the halls, you dove across a fallen palette, turning to face your hunter. He fixed you with a permanent grin, hand outstretched as another wave of electricity coursed through your body.  
  
Screaming, you felt something within you unhinge. That pain in your head suddenly present again. That didn’t make sense... you weren't dreaming this time.  
  
Before you the palette was smashed into splinters, and you turned to run again. You thought you heard movement, but it was hard to tell through the haze of static in your ears. you had to get away. Where was a palette when you needed one? Spying the vibrant paint, you rushed for it, only to find you hands pass through it.  
  
What?   
  
Stumbling, you fell over a toppled IV pole, landing on your hands and knees.  
You knew it was coming before you felt it.  
  
“Agh!” You cried, your vision blurring through another wave of flickering pain. This must be what a lightning strike feels like. It’s horrifying. Your head is pounding, if a brain could spasm you were sure yours would.   
  
You stagger to your feet. A sensation you can’t describe pulsating from the center of your being, raw and real and hungry.  
  
Before You can get up there’s a crippling blow to your back, no doubt from the spiked baton. Easing onto your elbows you let out a growl of pain, but before you can raise yourself you’re being bashed back down again.  
  
You don't have the chance to try again, before you’re being hoisted into the air.  
  
Your vision is fuzzy, smoldering and dark at the edges. You pound uselessly on your attackers back. It’s no use. His hands are like iron. Mercilessly solid.   
  
  
After a moment you feel yourself being lifted up, and then the sharp jab as a metal hook plunges its way through your shoulder. Mercifully, the pain seems to cut the pounding madness in your head back.  
  
You scream, of course, and once the note dies in the air you take a moment to look around.  
  
Your sixth sense tells you Feng is already gone. She is the only one, as far as you can tell. There are two… yes two generators left. That means it’s you Ace and the mysterious third.  
  
For a few painstaking moment you just hang there, hope slowly fading, that feeling inside your chest growing.  
  
Then there’s movement. Inky wings flow from the hall, followed momentarily by Ace. He’s limping, but he’s got that characteristic lopsided grin on his face. You knew that expression. He was feeling lucky.  
  
Running up to your side he reaches for you, and after a moment hesitation frees you from the hook.  
  
“Thanks!” you manage, and without a second thought he takes off. You realize why. Your hair is standing on end.  
Fucking hell, you can't seem to catch a break!  
You hear a locker clank shut ahead of you, and run ahead to find a row of them. Your heart is pounding; he’s close. Taking a chance you dive into the closest locker, closing the door shut just as a shadow falls over the slots.   
  
You can hear The Doctor’s breathing. He laughs; a high ratcheting sound. You shudder.  
  
You hear the batton, screeching as he grazes it across the fronts of all four lockers, you have to bite your lip not to flinch as it passes over yours. His voice is soft, he seems like he’s talking to himself.  
  
Then it’s quiet. You hear the locker beside you being torn open. Nothing. He steps to the left. He’s in front of yours. Oh god. You can see his white and black eyes through the slits. You pray the darkness hides you. Inside, that feeling twists, as if bearing fangs. You don’t move.  
   
The Doctor steps away, opening the last locker. Ace gasps in surprise. Oh no.  
  
Unlucky.  
  
From the narrow corner of your view you see him being picked up. There’s hope yet, you can save him if he ends up on the hook. That raven will guide you, right?  
  
Suddenly, Ace is flung to the floor.  
  
Wait, what?   
  
He begins to crawl immediately and The Doctor breaks into a fit of laughter, rubbing his hands together. Electricity jolts between his fingertips, bright enough to illuminate your locker for a moment.  
  
Mori. You know what happens next. You cover your ears, but you can still hear the Ace’s scream reverberate in the locker. It goes on for a long time. Too long.  
  
When your heart finally settles enough for you to leave you ease the locker open. It smells.  
  
“Oh Ace.” You say softly. You look away quickly, stepping over him and into the hall. The raven greets you first. As you look at it, it cocks its head, as if expectant.  
  
“Where’s the other survivor?” You ask. The bird stares back at you. You raise your eyebrows. It begins preening.  
"Hello?"  
It ignored you.   
  
Stupid. It’s a bird. You’re talking to a bird.  
  
Shaking your head, you begin to limp in the opposite direction you came. It only takes you a few moments to hear someone breathing. You duck behind a stretcher.  
  
It’s too soft to be The Doctor.  
  
“Hello?” You say softly, and a familiar head bobs up from the stretcher across from you. Quentin!  
You stand suddenly, meeting to hug him. Oh thank god. For a moment you almost feel like yourself.  
For a moment you just squeeze his narrow frame.  
  
He smiles as you part, beckoning for you to follow, and you do. He leads you across the hall, to the center of a room, there’s four TV screens overhead, broadcasting some sort of torture. It looks as if all of them are woven together with dangling bunches of cords. They blare loud static and grating snippets of screams.  
  
Jesus.  
  
You take care to ignore it as Quentin leads you to a generator. It’s slathered in blood, as is the floor. Entrails and bones are scattered across the whole stretch of tile; ominously illuminated by the overhead screens. You try not to retch. For a moment you scan the area. It looks like some kind of observation bay; as there is a balcony of sorts spanning above your head.  
  
You need to focus.  
  
using your nails you crack open the front panel of the generator, grabbing the frayed ends of a set of wires. Nimbly you rework the tendrils back to their correct lines.   
You’re almost done.  
You can see three pistons firing smoothly.  
Your finger slips, and a sudden jolt sends sparks scattering into your face.  
  
Shit.  
  
The Doctor is there in seconds, and you’re both scrambling to run. “H-here!” Quentin yells, shoving you ahead of him. He's going to take a hit for you.  
You hear a whoosh of fast moving air, followed by a hard thunk as he is sent to the ground.  
  
“No, fuck, Quentin!” You yell, as you turn to face him you slip on the gore.  
  
Everything seems to be in slow motion. Quentin raises a hand to you, he’s on his stomach; above him towers The Doctor, eyes scrunched up in sheer delight.  
  
That seething emotion is alive inside of you again The Doctor seems to know too. You can see the same thing reflected in his eyes.  
  
It’s bloodlust.  
  
That rage, you can feel it, the carnal desire to kill. The Doctor is reveling in it, like he has just found a friend. His eyes flicker to Quentin and then back to you.  
  
Quentin's immobilized, you could do it, The Doctor wouldn’t, couldn’t stop you. You don’t think he wants to, he seems as though the observation is quite enough.   
  
He's sick. You;re sick, this is all so wrong and yet you've never wanted to do it more. You crave the violence.   
  
You lurch forward a step, everything is getting dark. There’s a whisper in your head, so soft and so sweet, lulling you into action.  
  
While you’ve never heard the Entity’s voice, you assume this must be it. It’s just the same as your dreams. You don't have the leisure of time to wonder how.   
  
  
Your hands balled into fists, Quentin is saying something to you but you can’t hear it.  
  
It's just like your dream, but you know his face.   
  
  
A shrill caw breaks your focus, and your eyes flicker to the raven. It’s flutters to a halt at the IV post beside you, and from it’s talon drops a femur; it’s blackened to a crisp. You have a thought to where it may have come from.  
  
The sooty coloration draws you and a snatch it up greedily. For a moment you just feels its weight, then you look to your prey. Quentin is shaking his head, his eyes are pleading. The Entity is goading you. _He's yours..._ It purrs, the words are all you can focus on.  
  
You raise your gaze to meet The Doctor’s. Whatever shred of self-control you had is broken, and you swing with strength not your own. The rounded side of the femur glances off the Doctor’s face, and he let’s out of bizarre giggle of pain.  
It fuels you, suddenly your entire body is aflame; you can’t even feel the pain of your wounds. Just the hunger. You swing again; but your blow is met by the baton. The spikes catch on your own weapon. Shit.  
  
While clearly not anticipating an attack from _you_ The Doctor seems giddy nonetheless. You find in a panic that he’s a hell of a lot stronger than you, and you are pushed back a few precious steps.  
  
He has you backed against a wall, his shadow towers over you. He releases his grip just long enough to swing. Black wings rain down on him in a flurry, and you can see the bird trying to claw at the monstrous mans unblinking eyes.  
  
You take your chance and swing, hard, into his stomach, and when he doubles over, again into the back of his head. You don’t stop until The Doctor is a slump on the floor. There’s blood on your hands. Your face. Your arms.  
  
The bone falls from your hands to the floor and suddenly you feel sick.  
You just bludgeoned a man to death.  
  
Well maybe not a man, and maybe not to death, but still.  
You don’t know you’re shaking until someone grabs your hand.  
They guide you away, one step at a time. It takes you a while to realize it’s Quentin. He’s okay! Thank god he’s okay.  
  
The two of you walk through the asylum in silence, towards the exit gates.  
To your surprise they’re open.  
  
Before you can ask, Quentin shrugs.  
“I heard them open.”  
“But the generators?” You begin to ask. There’s still two that need to be done.  
“I know.” He just states.  
  
The two of you walk out the doors.


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You managed to make it away from the trial; but at what cost? You're far from safe.

  
Cool air brushes past your face and you breathe a deep sigh of relief, even as the pair of you walk into the woods you can feel the pain of your wounds begin to ebb away. Both of you are silent, the atmosphere between you apprehensive. Should you say something? Thanks? Sorry?  
  
You feel your shoulders sag with sudden fatigue. I mean really, what the fuck _was_ that? You had attacked a killer and won. But it almost wasn’t the killer… You give Quentin a side-eye glance; he’s looking straight ahead.  
  
What are you going to tell the others? Do you even mention it?  
  
Fuck.  
  
After a while Quentin finally releases your hand, and you stop. Firelight flickers in the trees about a hundred or so feet away.  
  
“So what sh-” You begin to ask, but Quentin cuts you off.  
  
“Maybe we shouldn't talk about it. It kind if seems like a fuck up on the Entity’s end, I don't want to encourage the others to do any of that... y’know hero stuff.” He says, glancing at you.  
  
His eyes are weary beneath that mess of hair.  
  
“That’s probably for the best.” You finally say, nodding once. So he thinks you’re a hero… That’s… Kinda nice really. A weak smile pulls at the edges of your face, and you give him a bump on the shoulder. He reluctantly smiles back, and you walk in tandem the rest of the way to the fireside.  
  
If only he knew how close you had been to bludgeoning him… You don’t have time to meditate on the thought for long, as a loud chorus of voices raises to meet the two of you.  
  
Woah, is everyone here? You start to count heads; yeah everyone is accounted for; at least out of your group of friends. You’ve never seen everyone in one place before, it’s bizarre.  
  
“Hey, quite the party.” You laugh, as you limp into the glow of the firelight. Ace is the first to greet you, offering a wave, and you can't help but wander over to give him an apologetic hug.

  
“Hey, hey kid lay off it. I’m fine.” He muses, he makes a big deal of avoiding the attention, but you know he loves it.  
  
Quentin sidles off to take a seat next to Laurie, where he settles into a tired stare. Picking your way up the path you choose a spot between David and Jake. It takes only a second for David to realize something is up, and he gives you a well-meaning elbow in the ribs.  
  
“Oi, what’s got you looking so miserable? Y’look like you can’t be arsed to smile.” He prodded, earning the attention of Dwight who sat on his other side.  
  
“Yeah, you guys look pretty shaken.” He added, leaning past David’s frame to look at you. You let out an uneasy laugh, catching Quentin’s eye. His eyebrows were drawn together.  
  
David was one of you best friends, you knew he would probably drag the truth out of you if you lied to him. But it wasn’t like you could just, y’know, talk about.  
  
_Hey guys! I just spent the trial having a mental break and beating the living shit out of a Killer with Ace’s fucking thigh bone, no biggie!_ _  
_ _  
_ Clearing your throat you chose a slightly less dramatic retelling. “It was a rough one, that’s all. Got to see Ace get the mori right in front of my face. Just about got Quentin too.” You said, haphazardly. “Thought he was gonna get us all.” You finished, clearing your throat.  
  
The chatter had subsided, and you got a few sympathetic glances from the ring of people. Being mori’d sucked, that was something everyone understood.  
  
Seeming to sense you didn't want to talk anymore, David launched into some epic tale about a bar fight he was in once. Everyone loved those stories, even if his slang got so intense nobody could really tell what he was saying. At least he was passionate.  
  
Even as he told his story he kept a hand on your knee, as if wanting to assure you despite being otherwise occupied.  
  
On your opposite side, Jake was looking reflectively into the flames; he had been quiet for some time. You put your head on his shoulder, and he didn’t move or react. You were glad, you didn't want to be grilled a second time.  
  
Taking a long deep breath, you watched the shimmering of oranges and reds, letting the voices around you become muddled. It was relaxing. You savoured the moment of just being around everyone.  
  
Then your eyes flickered open, someone said your name. You adjusted your head to look around, but everyone was still watching David. Your eyes began to droop, but you heard it again- clearer this time.  
  
You sat up straighter, and Jake gave you a soft glance. You smiled back at him to ease his worry, and he returned to his mediative fire-watching.  
  
Craning your neck, you looked into the woods behind you. You didn’t recognize the voice, but it was sickly familiar. It called again. Could anyone else hear it? You turned back around, counting heads again.  
  
Everyone you knew was here… So who was calling you?  
  
“Do you hear that?” You whispered to Jake, giving him a soft tap on the shoulder. He roused, glancing around.  
  
You heard it again, as if they were right between you.  
  
“That!” You stated. He paused; listening, then shook his head.  
  
“I don’t hear anything.” He said, he gave you a sympathetic look. “Maybe you should get some rest, you look tired.” He said after a moment, his tone gentle.  
  
You opened your mouth to argue, but on your opposite side David squeezed your knee. You frowned at him too, he seemed to be keeping half an ear on you even as he went on with his story.  
  
“Alright, fine.” You mumble, somewhat begrudgingly. Jake shuffles a few inches to the side, and you lay down on your back across the log; head in his lap, and feet draped across David’s.  
  
You hoped you wouldn’t dream.  
  
But here you are standing alone in an open grassy field. It seems to stretch on forever in very direction, the green grass inky blue in the dark, moonless night.  
_  
_ _Where am I?_   
  
“Home.” Someone answers.

You turn around, but there’s nothing, just the same stretch of grass.

 _I don’t live in a field of grass._ You think to yourself.

_Then something more like this?_

Around you a structure rises from the ground, before it’s even fully up you can recognize your house. Nostalgia hits you like a punch in the stomach and you just marvel for a moment.

It’s more or less exactly as you remember it, arcing up into the blackened sky.

 _“_ Do you remember?” The voice asks. The voice is genderless, a whisper but also clear, a groan and a sigh. It’s hard to comprehend.

You tilt your head; _remember what?_

Then you feel it, the pain in your head, like someone was forcing your brain aside. The boy, he’s your best friend, _your best friend_. He’s reaching out to you.

You realize it’s the same dream again. Exactly as it had been last night.

_No, no please not this again!_

You begin frantically trying to back away, but you’re trapped in your own body. You can feel the blood lust coming over you again. Your muscles contract on their own, like you’re being puppeteered

_I don’t want to hurt him again, please, please!_

“Then wake up. I’m calling you.”

And suddenly you’re awake. You sit up in a flurry, startling Jake who appeared to have nodded off.

It was loud around the fire, everyone still engaged in conversation. You blinked a few times.

“Here.” Someone states, the same voice as before. You turn, you can see someone standing in the trees.

This was a trap. It had to be, you had no doubt that was the Entity speaking to you, but what did it want? Revenge perhaps, for hurting one of its killers? What did it know?

There was a lance of pain in your skull. Shit. You put a hand to your head, if you could resist it, maybe he would leave you alone.

For a heartbeat of worked, up until it intensified. It honest to God felt like someone was winding up an axe and slamming it into your brain, over and over. Worse than any migraine by a landslide. You wanted to be sick but your stomach hasn’t seen food in, well, months probably.

You couldn’t bare it anymore.

Getting to your feet, your turned to the woods.

“I’m gonna go for a walk.” You said to Jake, ruffling his hair as you stood. He nodded, but his eyes followed you, looking concerned. Your face must have been sheet white.

“Come back soon.” Quentin said from where he sat. He was still slumped over, his eyes closed.

You nodded, and turned to the trees. As soon as you entered the woods, the pain began to subside, bleeding away with every step. It was surprisingly zen, even if your hands were still balled into fists of apprehension.

Above you crows flitted, they seemed to be keeping pace with you.

After a moment you thought you saw a figure, over eight feet tall, it almost looked as if it were sporting branches… no, legs. Spider legs. It krept out of sight before you could catch up to it.

_Damn._

You kicked your pace up into a jog, the woods making you feel strangely invigorated. Maybe you had gotten more sleep than you thought?

Time was weird in this place, especially with the lack of a night and day cycle, but you knew you must have been walking for about an hour.

Where were you supposed to go? The woods were usually like a sphere; if you walked and walked you would generally end up back at the fire.

As if on queue, you saw a break in the trees.  
Shrouded in fog, you could just make out the edges of a building.  
On the fringe of it was a flickering fire. That’s odd, there weren’t any buildings by the fire…

Still, you were glad to be back from your venture, jogging you met the edge of the clearing, just in time to realize that was no ordinary building.

It was a killer shack.

 _The_ killer shack.  
  
It was just as it stood in every trial, but far more detailed. from where you stood you could even make out moss creeping its way over the surface of the shelter. 

What the fuck?

You stopped dead in your tracks, backing up a few paces. The Entity could kiss your ass, you weren’t going in there.

As you backed away, the pain didn’t return.  
Nope.  
  
Facing the trees you broke into a sprint.  
You would come back the way you came.

Trees passed by your face in a flurry, and you ran until your lungs burned. Just when you thought you were nearing freedom, the killer shack rolled back into view; championing the horizon. 

Fucks sake!

Another two hours or so passed as you raced through the trees, but to no avail. The only fire you were met by was the one that resided by the shack.

Exhaustion was creeping in on you, and you finally gave up. Okay, you were stuck here, but that didn’t mean you _had_ to go to the clearing. You could stay in the woods.

It was lose-lose for you _and_ the Entity. If he wanted you, he would have to come and get you himself.

Finding a sizeable tree, you clambered up the wide boughs, only scraping your knee once despite the fatigue.

Stretching out on a hefty branch, you crossed your legs at the ankles. Hopefully if any killers stumbled far enough out of the clearing to find you, they wouldn’t be able to reach you.

Assuming the Huntress wasn't among them, she could probably do you in even from the height.

Shaking your head, you looked at the blue-grey leaves, their soft movement in the wind lulling you into sleep.  


This time you didn’t dream.  
  
  


_Jab!_

“Ow! The hell?” You hissed, sitting up suddenly. Standing firmly on your chest was a crow, it’s black eyes glimmering.

_Jab!_

 

It pecked you on the cheek, and you scrambled to sit up and swat it away. It fluttered just out of reach, turning its head to regard you.

“Pesky little turd.” You spat, watching as it flew a few trees over. It cawed at you, fluttering its wings.

“Yeah you better run.” You grumbled. It seemed to be irritated with you, ruffling its feathers and cawing again, this time purposefully peering down. Your eyes followed it. Oh shit.

Standing beneath its tree was a man, tall and lean.  
  
Michael Myers.  
  
He was staring at you, his knife lowered but still regarding you with dangerous interest. He reminded you of a house cat, languidly watching a mouse.

You scrambled into a crouch, easing yourself up a few more branches. He watched you attentively. You could hear his breathing.

Slowly, deliberately, he strolled under your tree, raising his knife. He plunged it into the bark, using the leverage to climb.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, climbing higher. You were running out of branches, and he was gaining on you.

You couldn’t jump, you had to be almost fifteen feet up, maybe more. You hugged your knees to your chest. It was still crusted in blood. Did you not heal here?

Now you really couldn’t risk the fall.  
  
Despite his pace being nothing above methodical, he hate up the distance between you easily.

Below you he extended a hand, he was just shy of your ankle. “Hey, leave! I- I’ll beat you man, I’ll fuck you up like your weird doctor friend!” You threatened.

He tilted his head at that.

He seemed to weigh the circumstances for a moment. Charcoal eyes roved over your figure, you were smaller than him.  
  
A hand grasped the branch below you.

Apparently he fancied he could win.

_Shit._

Your chances were slim. Realization dawned on you, you needed to be angry. Bloodthirsty and rageful, maybe then you could have a chance.

Your mind flickered to your best friend face. To the dream where you were being forcibly strung along. That struck a chord.

While not nearly on the same level, you felt before, it was faintly there.  
  
He heaved himself up onto your branch, and it began to dip with the weight, wrapping your arms around the trunk you stomped on his hands. He released his grip with a grunt, at least for a moment, only to slash at you with his other hand. You staggered, leaning back just as his knife arced past your calves.    
  
As he collected himself for another swing, you dropped down a branch; then another. Maybe your chances were better on foot, at least you wouldn't be cornered right? Taking note of your movements, he followed, slow but persistent as ever.  
  
You were just about out of his grasp, one more branch!  
  
You braced yourself to drop down, but as your feet left the branch you didn't fall. You rose. Myers had snagged the back of your shirt.  
  
Frantically you struggled, trying to slip out of your clothes. His other hand closed on your throat, and you were dragged up to be face to face.  
  
You clawed at his hands, nails gouging into his skin. He didn’t move. You couldn't breath. Your eyes flickered to his other hand; thankfully he was using it to support himself and his position, not to brandish his knife. It was buried in the trunk to his side.  
  
Blackness tinted the edges of your vision, you were gasping outright now. You let one of your hands drop, and as it did you felt heat in the palm of your hand. The sensation spread like flames up your arm, and into your core.  
  
Just like that you were awakened, with all your strength you swung, and as you did the same charred bone materialized in the center of your palm. With all your might you bashed it into the center of Myers face. Right in the pale nose of his mask.  
  
Mercifully he let go.  
  
And suddenly you were plummeting from the tree, being ricocheted from branch to branch, above you Michael grunted in pain, before he too lost his balance. He fell after you, like a stone. His weight being too much for the trees branches he was plummeted all the way to the ground.  
  
He lay where he landed, flat on his back. A branch protruded from his bicep. Panting, you took a moment just to breath. Your throat was bruised, and you rested light fingers over the tender skin.  
  
“I warned you, you fuck.” You croaked.  
  
Hoisting yourself up, you sat back on the branch. You were only about five feet off the ground now. This tree was more or less spent, with the best branches soaked in blood or broken. That being said, you didn't fancy walking past Michael either.

  
A grunt caused you to glance back down at him, and to your dismay he sat up, straight like some kind of mummy. His mask was smattered with blood, and you could see it dripping down his neck.  
  
For a moment he looked up at you, and you glared daggers back at him.  
  
“You want round two?” You growled.  
  
He regarded you for a second longer, flexing his hand.. Just like that his blade re-materialized, and you bristled. He stood. Then, without looking at you again, wandered back into the forest. You could see his figure watching; it only moved when a firelight ignited in the trees. He was going to trial.  
  
Thank God.  
That was probably the only time you were happy for a trial.  
  
You leaned back, everything hurt. You knew you had a wound on your shoulder, not that you could see it. Easing out of the tree you let yourself drop to the ground. Femur still firmly clasped in your hands.  
  
You couldn't make yourself move far, so you just sat at the base of the trunk. You were vaguely aware of a large bird landing beside you, but you chose to ignore it. Maybe he could keep an eye out for you, you needed a rest.  
  
Crossing your legs, you pulled the club into your lap, examining it close. It was different then you remember; longer. As if it had been extended a good five inches. One end was actually wrapped in cloth, which you gripped easily. The other end was the ball of the femur, it was bloodied, and upon closer inspection you noticed malicious looking notch in it, making it look like it had a tooth.  
  
You pulled it closer to your face, and before your eyes it began to smolder, another notch burning its was into the bone. Two wins. Two notches. You were so absorbed in watching the action, you didn’t notice you had more company.  
  
Not until you heard the revving of a chainsaw.  
  
Instinctively you rolled to the side, watching as metal teeth bit into the soil where you sat. At your back the raven took flight, letting out a hiss of displeasure.  
  
You brandished your weapon, facing your newest adversary. You couldn't catch a bloody break. It was almost like these woods were full of killers or something!  
  
Standing across from you was the Hillbilly, gnarled face fixing you with sheer delight.  
You didn’t share his excitement.  
Quite frankly, you were pissed.  
  
The entity couldn't let you have one day? One goddamn day to yourself without trying to eviscerate you? You let out a low growl, and as he revved his saw again you parried, the teeth getting caught on the rounded end of your club. In one clean move you managed to partially disarm him; the saw clunking into the grass.   
  
Hillbilly seemed to take it personally. His chainsaw was his prized possession after all. Angered, he swung at you with the mallet, and you tried to catch that blow too. You didn't quite land it though, and the power of the strike sent you staggering. A triumphant string of laughter rang from his throat, and you tried your best to recover.  
  
He swung again, and this time you managed to clip his fingers. A loud yowl of pain emanating from him, and you back off a few steps to regroup.  
  
He retrieved his saw, preparing for another attack, but stopped. Somewhere behind you, you could hear a voice, deep, hoarse and masculine. Who could that be? Another survivor?  
  
Hillbilly took a step to you, but paused when the voice rang out again. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Reluctantly, he gave you a last once over, before frowning and limping in the direction of the noise.  
  
If you thought you were tired before, you were exhausted now.  
  
There was no rest for the wicked however; as from the same cusp of trees Hillbilly had left in, two other figures emerged.  
  
One was tall, so damn tall, and the other even taller still with shoulder wide enough to make a UFC fighter look meek.  
  
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You stated, barely on your feet. You didn’t have time to run, they closed the distance in moments.  
  
This was it, the grand finale. You were going to get ripped apart by the Trapper, Wraith _and_ Hillbilly. As if one wasn't enough.    
  
”This what you’re making a ruckus about, ‘en?” Trapper asked, the Hillbilly peeking from around his side. He seemed excited.  
  
They had stopped just shy of about five meters from you.  
  
You blinked, just staring. He… talked? Killers could talk? You were so aghast you almost missed the Wraith gesturing at you. Your legs parted in a power stance, and your hands tightened on the club.  
  
Maybe not all killers, Wraith didn’t speak words, just gestured to you with his hands.  
  
“This one hurts back.” Hillbilly stated, nodding in tandem with Wraith’s gestures.  
  
You almost laughed.  
  
“I was playing with her, It was fun!” He went on to say. Before Trapper could restrain him, he was loping towards you again, and you were ready.  
  
Before you can swing, a shard of pain; like a sliver of glass splintered into your skull. You staggered. Wraith fortunately reacted faster than Trapper, grabbing Hillbilly by the arm so he couldn’t land a hit.  
  
“S-stay back." You warned. You swung again, but it lacked power, the club felt so much heavier. You pitched, catching yourself before you could hit the ground. You used the club like a crutch.  
  
It felt like someone had a hand on the back of your head, as if they were driving spines into the lobes of your brain. The club melted under your hand, like sludge, it passed into nothingness.  
  
You collapsed.


	3. Sammy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being captured and told the rules, you proceed to break, well, most of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall! I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter, so I hope it reads well. With it out of the way I'm hoping the rest will come easy. haha  
> Thanks again for the kudos and comments, it's what's kept me writing!

 

“Hey, we’re gonna be best friends _forever,_ right?” It’s Sam, he’s got his hand over yours.

 

“Well _of course.”_ You state, matter of factly. He eases at that, turning to face the sun again, You’re in a grassy field, the land punctuated by hordes of dandelions. The sun is warm on your face, you can hear the bees bumbling from flower to flower.

 

To your left are two bikes, discarded in their sides. You’re happy, so refreshingly content.

 

You look down at your knees, bruised and covered in haphazardly places band-aids. Sam tightens his grip on your hand.

 

“I- I don’t feel so good.” He says, and you turn to him. He’s not a kid anymore.

He’s clutching his stomach, blood is sleeping through the gaps between his fingers.

 

The hillside is dark, you look into your hands, you’re clenching a knife, so tight your knuckles are white.

 

“S-Sammy, I’m so sorry.” You begin, but it’s all fading away.

 

You open your eyes, you can feel tears teeming and as you blink they fall in streaks down your cheeks.

 

That was disturbing. You could recall that memory with crystal clarity; it was Sam’s 9th birthday.

 

He had invited the whole class but nobody showed up but you. He had been inconsolable- he had the tendency to cry- so you had taken it upon yourself to cheer him up.

 

That day ended with you sharing ham sandwiches on the hilltop land watching the sun go down.

 

It had been a long time since you last thought about Sam.

 

Then there was the latter half. It was like you were unravelling a disturbing tale, one page at a time. Something had happened to you an Sam. You had hurt him, and it was with a knife...but why? Part of you wanted to believe it was just a dream, but you knew better.

 

As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you noted you were now inside a building. The shack if you had to guess.

 

Sitting up, you found to your displeasure that your wrist were bound, first together and secondly to a metal loop, screwed into the floor. It looked like it had been installed just for you, pale wood flecks still loose st the screws base.

 

Movement caught your eye and you gasped, backpedaling as far as your tether would let you.

 

Hillbilly.

 

He approached you, his movements sudden and jerky. Screaming, you threw your arms over your head. It was an instinctive reaction, and you realized it was kinda unnecessary. If they had tied you up, clearly they weren’t intending to kill you. Not yet at least.

 

Dipping out of the shelter, he ran off into the dark. You swiftly wiped your cheeks with your forearm.

 

You needed to keep it together, if they could talk, maybe you could end this diplomatically.

 

The Wraith filled the doorway first, he must have been just outside. If you had to guess, you would have said he almost looked worried; his eyebrows drawn together.

 

A few moments later, Trapper followed in suit, and you felt yourself shrinking away. God he was big. Hillbilly arrived just behind him, peeking around the mountain of a man's arm.

 

Your heart was pounding; beating on your breastbone. Your body was still recovering from the prior trauma and the dark sick feeling of shock the dream had left you with.

 

You were panicking. Full on panicking. Your lungs felt like they couldn’t expand, like there wasn’t enough air in the room for all four of you.

 

Wraith turned to Trapper and he seemed to give a meaningful look. The Trapper shook his head, clearly irritated. He received a second look, and you saw his shoulders sag as he let out a resigned sigh.

 

Crouching before your tether, he gave it a short-tempered yank, and you were unceremoniously dragged towards him, stopping just shy of about an inch of his knee.

 

This was it, he was going to kill you. Fight or flight kicked in and you frantically began fighting the rope, wrenching back on it with all your strength.

 

Trapper put an end to it with on swipe, grabbing your wrists. Clearly already annoyed with the situation. He used only one hand, his grip wide enough to encompass both of your hands.

 

You stared up into the black hole and his mask, shaking so hard your teeth clicked. It was insane, the raw power this one man had. You couldn’t even hope to fight him off, even if you were both armed and rested.

 

“Listen here; you’re in our house now, and we got rules. You better take care to follow them.” He growled, his voice a low sinuous note.

 

You fixed him with massive eyes, not daring to look away or blink for even a moment.

 

You nodded once.

 

He held you for a few more seconds, as if to further put the point across that he could end you with one stroke. Then he let your hands fall back to the ground.   
  
He grunts, and without further prompting, Wraith escorts the Hillbilly outside. He seems to protest, but with some prodding is out the door.   
  
You follow their movements out, only daring to look back when you see vibrant amber embers materializing in front of you. The Trapper moves his fingers ever so slightly, and you see his cleaver materialize. Your heart leaps into your throat.   
  
Was your nod not good enough? Was it all just a show to get the others to leave? Maybe he just wanted the kill all to himself. You gaped, fumbling to find words. He cast a long look out the door, then turned back to you.   
  
He stepped on the rope, ensuring your attention; not that you had any intentions of looking elsewhere.   
  
“I don’t know how the hell you ended up here, but you’re here. So listen up.” He paused, raising his cleaver.   
“First, don't lay a hand on Max again. Don’t talk to him, don’t touch him, don’t even look at him. I don't want him anywhere near someone like you.” The cleaver came down in one clear swipe, and you flinched. Between you, the rope lay severed.   
He held out his hand.   
When you did not responded, he gestured to your wrists.   
  
You offered them. “Secondly, you do whatever we say you do, when we say it. Be respectful and we won’t have a problem, stir up trouble and I’ll break every bone you’ve got.” With that, he gave you one lost lingering look, before finally turning and exiting.   
  
Finally, alone.   
  
Uncomfortable, you rubbed your wrists. You didn’t want to leave the shack, nor did you want to stay. You were still shaking. You backed up to the nearest wall, sliding down it. You breathed a slow, deep, sigh. You missed your friends.   
  
What you wouldn’t give for a hug from Quentin. Or one of David’s stories. Or Jake’s comforting shoulder. To sit and chat with Nea, Claudette and Meg. You even missed Dwight.   
  
Somewhere outside, there was talking.   
  
“So is she one of us now?” A voice asked, the Hillbilly.   
  
There was a deep growling sigh.   
  
“Well, no. It’ not that simple Max. But she can stay for now.” He mumbled.   
  
_Who is Max?_ You wondered. _Is that the Hillbilly? His name was Max?_ That made sense. Trapper had been alluding to a Max when he was giving you that, uh, _talking to._   
  
Max seemed to start up again, but fell silent.

 

There was a brief pause, as if they were regarding something, and you could hear Trapper’s heavy footfalls.  
  
“It’s okay, I’ll go.” Hill- No, _Max_ said.   
  
After that it was more or less silent.   
  
you slid onto your back, laying flat, looking up at the wooden ceiling.   
  
A soft flutter caught your attention, and you saw the tall silhouette of a raven as it came to a rest at the windowsill opposite to you. It gazed down at you, before hopping from the sill and slowly making its way towards you. You regarded it tentatively.   
  
It approached you, circling around to your head. It grabbed a piece of your hair, grooming it a moment. When you didn’t react, it came a little closer. With some trepidation in decidedly folded its legs to sit. You admired the glossy feathers, reaching out and giving it a stroke.   
  
It didn't move, and the ghost of a smile crossed your face. Maybe it wasn't all bad. Just mostly.   
  
  
                                                                        * * *   


Rolling on your side, you found yourself unable to sleep- despite the fatigue. You were cold, and the ground of the shack was hardly comfortable. Outside you heard Max return. It sounded like he was running towards the shack, and you shut your eyes tight, pretending to be asleep.   
  
Thankfully Trapper caught him before he could get there.   
  
“Hey Maxie, I need to have a talk with ya’.” He rumbled. You strained to hear what was being said. They werejust out of earshot, you can hear their voices, but not what’s being said.   
  
They sounded like they were bickering, until Trapper shouted, and the conversation died out. In a flurry, Max entered the shack, running to the corner opposite to you and all but throwing himself onto the ground.  It was a temper tantrum if you ever saw one.   
  
Wraith filled the door shortly afterwards, looking between the two of you; exasperated. Trapper shouted something from outside, and Wraith turned to you- somewhat cautiously.   
  
He beckoned you with a hand, and you got to your feet, the raven stirring as you got up. Following the Wraith out, you approached the now-cold fire pit. Wraith gestured for you to sit. You could feel the Trapper’s eyes burning into you from across the clearing. You dared to shoot a glance at him, and saw he was crouching in the grass; mending a trap. He caught your eye and you quickly looked away, watching your feet.   
  
He was even scary from across the clearing.   
  
Taking a seat in front of the pit, you stretched out your sore legs. In front of you crouched the Wraith, he was arranging sticks into a neat little tent-shape. You watched curiously, as he rubbed his hands together.   
  
Between his palms blossomed the faintest flecks of embers, which eventually caught the tinder below. You gasped, shuffling closer to get a better look.   
  
“Woah.”   
  
You watched him puff at the smouldering little heap, until a true flame began eating up the edges of the sticks.   
  
“How did you do that?” You asked, offering a wide-eyed glance.

 

The Wraith seemed to consider that for a moment. Putting his palms together, he made the same motion, and you copied it. Quite obviously you weren’t successful. He frowned, and you offered a shruh.

 

“I guess you’re magic.” You said, prompting him. You were unsure if he was simply a quiet person, or if he was just unable to speak.

 

His shoulders shook at that, in what you could only assume was laughter. In spite of yourself you let out a laugh too. Beside you, the raven hopped up onto the log, tucking its head under your arm.

 

You gave it a light handed stroke, pausing to ruffle up its feathers. Wraith seemed fascinated by it, and he reached over cautiously, offering a hand.

 

The raven didn’t recoil, nor did it lean into the touch, instead it picked its way into your lap, settling. Despite being a bird it was rather heavy, almost like a big languid house cat.

 

Wraith didn’t take offence to the action, just eased back. You watched him for a moment, he didn’t seem so bad.

 

Turning your gaze, you watched the flames, grateful for the sudden warmth: This place was surprisingly chilly without the close company you were used to.

 

You stirred when Wraith glanced to the side, eyeing the woods. After a moment, your eyes caught the orange flicker of another fire.

 

As if on queue the Trapper rose, marching purposely for it. Where was he going? He paused as he passed your duo.

 

“Don’t let her outta your sight Philip.” He gave he Wraith another long look, before vanishing into the tree line.

 

“Are you Phillip?” You asked, once you were sure he was gone. Wraith turned to you, giving a curt nod.

 

“Oh.” Was all you managed. It was weird, you never really considered the fact that the killers had names. Well, not beyond Myers anyways. It was bizarre, almost too humanizing.

 

“Where did Trapper go?” You asked after a moment. You assumed Max had gone to the same place…

 

Wraith, or rather, Phillip seemed to consider this a moment, as if looking for words.

 

Eventually he opted to point at you, before making a J motion up above his head. Not I like a hook.

 

“A trial?” You asked, and he nodded pointedly.

 

“Oh.”

 

You supposed it had to be done, whatever break your friends had earned- or you had inadvertently caused- had come to an end.

 

The conversation died, and you wiggled your feet, just happy to be warm. When Phillip stood, looking distressed, your eyes followed.

 

Another trial.

 

Anxiously he stood, holding a flat palm to you, signing you should stay. You obliged. With that, he ran into the shack.

 

He must have been getting Max. That was weird, did he not like the trials?

 

Max wandered into the trees, enthusiastic enough despite whatever had occurred earlier.

 

Now it was just you and Phillip. He returned to the fire, but didn’t sit down. His eyes were still on the trees. Looked like he would need to go too, a persistent orange glow still igniting the cracks between the bows.

 

Seemed the Entity wanted all his cards on the table.

 

Looking around worriedly, Phillip held himself. If you had to guess, you would suspect he was waiting on a miracle. Maybe Trapper would come back and save him the trouble.

 

No such luck.

 

With a resigned noise of displeasure, he drew himself tall.

 

Before he left he pointed at you, then held up his palm again.

 

_You stay._

 

You have him a thumbs up, and he turned, vanishing into the trees.

 

As soon as he was gone you stood, stretching out your legs. Your bird friend fluttering aside, and resuming its position on the log. Walking back into the shack, you have it a genuine once over.

 

The ceiling was high, and it was made of tin. The walls appeared to be a mixture of steel and wood. There was a squat table pushed to the very back, the surface of which was scattered with various part and tools. On the corner of such was also a desk lamp, with no cords to speak of.

 

Curiously, you flicked the switch, and to your surprise it actually turned on. Well, nothing made sense here, least of all power. So why not?

 

Peering under the desk, you found a set of wooden boxes, also filled with parts. Well two were, one was brimming with various pieces of chalk, charcoal and other paints. Resting against the last box was a tattered old medical kit, which you tucked under your arm.

 

Exiting the building you resumed your usual spot on the log, your avian companion hopping up to greet you.

 

Unzipping the pack you found a dirty little bottle of antiseptic spray, some bandaids, a need and thread, and a short roll of gauze.

 

Straightening you reached behind your back, feeling the place on your shoulder you had hurt falling out of the tree. It was tender and tacky with blood, the edges of which were dried.

 

Angling the bottle you have it a generous few sprays, hissing I’m displeasure.

 

“Fuck that stings!” You hissed. Using a wad of gauze you patted it down, before tossing it into the fire. Replacing the bag you began poking around more, when steps met your ears.

 

Ah shit. If it was the Trapper he would probably give you shit for touching their stuff. Quickly you stood, tossing the bag back under the desk before plonking back into the log.

 

You were surprised to see Max round the edge of the building, and he stopped dead in his tracks once he spotted you. His face was twisted in an upset frown.

 

Despite being a murderous monster your heart twisted for him; much to your displeasure.

 

“Hey buddy.” You said after a moment of awkwardly regarding each other.

 

He seemed surprised you spoke to him, and not entirely enthused. You could imagine why; judging by the frown he had come from an unsuccessful trial, and now he had you- a survivor- sitting at home base reminding him of it. And this one he wasn’t aloud to hit.

 

At least you hoped he wasn’t aloud to hit.

 

“Is Evan still gone?” He asked after a minute, glancing around the empty clearing.

 

“Evan?” You asked. Who was Evan?

 

Now he looked confused.

 

“Evan is Evan.” He prompted, and when you simply gazed back he began to elaborate.

 

“Y’know, big, big guy!” He waved his arms in an arc above his head, to indicate someone larger than him.

 

Was the Trapper’s name Evan?

Your eyes lit up in recognition, followed by that same stab of unfamiliarity that came with labeling killers.

 

“Oh, yeah, he and Philip are still gone.” You mumbled after moment.

 

Max seemed to visibly deflate. That clearly wasn’t the answer he had hoped for.

 

Sliding to the side, you patted the log beside you. You had already broken rule number one and two by looking and speaking to Max, might as well break the rest.

 

Besides, he looked like a kicked puppy.

 

“How was the trial?” You asked.

 

Watching you carefully a moment he sauntered over, plunking down with an audible thumb on the stump next to the trunk you sat upon.

 

“It was okay, they were really mean this time.” He said after a moment, looking to you.

 

“One of them had this light stick, and he kept pointing it in my face.” He mumbled with a deepening frown.

 

“That’s too bad, Max. Maybe next time you’ll have better luck.” You sympathized, offering him a soft smile. He seemed to like that, sitting up a little straighter.

 

“Yeah, I wanna be good like Evan, he does the work really fast. N’ he almost always catches them all.” Max said, nodding to himself. His gaze had traveled to the fire, which he watched with alre relaxed expression.

 

“The work?” You asked, leaning forward a bit. To your side the raven stirred, standing just long enough to wiggle its way back into your lap.

 

“Yeah! That’s when him upstairs gathers all of you his for a game. At least, that’s what Evan calls it.” Max explained. He seemed delighted to be telling you this. You suspected he was often the one having things explained to him.

 

“I see.” You added, nodding. _A game_. So Max saw the trials as a game. You supposed it made sense, he didn’t seem to have the same understanding of the world as you. Or even as Evan and Philip, almost childlike.

 

A soft caw drew your attention and you looked first to your lap, then to where your feathered watchdog was looking.

 

Trapper was back.

Or rather Evan.

His chest was splattered in blood, and he looked exhausted, but triumphant. Whatever contentment he had in his he’s from his success vanished as soon as he saw you and Max sitting side by side.

 

One moment he was standing on the edge of the field and the next he was hurtling towards you.

 

“ _WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!”_ He bellowed, loud enough to make both you _and_ Max stand.

 

The raven took flight, and you all but stumbled back, putting the log between you and the mass of muscle.

 

You had assumed you would have heard him coming, and retreated before punishment, but he had caught you in the act.

 

“I-I’m sorry I just!” You began but he cut you off.

 

“I don’t give a shit if you’re sorry, I told you we got rules!” He growled, his voice low and acidic. He stood across from you now, close enough that he felt no need to shout.

 

 _Now you’re gonna break every bone in my body, right?_ You wanted to say. You held your tongue.

 

In one clean sweep, he reached across the log, seizing you by the throat. Lifting you as if you were weightless he brought you to his mask.

 

Grasping his hands to keep from choking you struggled. A little voice in the back of your head wondered if you even should. Maybe death was the only way out of here…

 

The grip tightened and you gasped for air, clawing at your captors hands. Stars danced in and out of your vision.

 

“Evan stop, she didn’t do nothin’ wrong!” Max begged, you were vaguely aware of him grabbing Trapper’s arm. Max was shoved away, but he got up again- still persistent.

 

“Evan! She was nice to me, you’re gonna hurt her!” He began again, this time tugging on your legs, which really wasn’t helping.

 

After a few more desperate seconds you were dropped to the ground, where you began gasping for breath.

 

With one hand to your throat you gulped in a few desperate breaths. When you were finally sure you weren’t about to die, you looked to Evan and Max. They were both staring behind you.

 

Afraid of what you might see, you reluctantly turned, only for you mouth to drop open.

 

Behind you were crows.

So many crows. The tree tops were black with them, so much so they looked like they and leaves.

 

“Look, even him upstairs didn’t want you to do it.” Max stated after a minute, somewhat matter of factly.

 

As you say gazing up at the mass you payed that Philip had returned, he was gazing up at the trees too.

 

At Max’s words he shook his head.

 

_Not him._

 

He then turned and posted to you.

 

_Them._

 

“I didn’t do this.” You croaked, holding your hands up defensively.

 

“Not on purpose.” You amended after a moment. It was becoming glaring obvious you were a little more than just any other survivor. Maybe that was what this place did to you. Stay among killers you become one...


	4. The Truth Comes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only do you finally come to remember your past; you meet a new killer- seems life just keeps throwing you curve balls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this pretty late and haven't gone back to edit yet, so my apologies for any errors!

_Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death._  
 _-Coco Chanel_  
  
  
  
The atmosphere around the fire was tense, with Evan sitting furthest back, his eyes on his cleaver. He was sharpening the blade with a wet stone, passing it over with methodical stroke after stroke. 

Opposite to him were Philip and Max, who had their backs to him, and were instead speaking to you.

You sat where you had dropped, now cross legged. One hand was on your bruised throat, the other across the back of your raven companion. Like an ebony blanket, a flock of crows still stood scattered at your back, pecking at insects amongst the grass, and lining the trees.

They were like a storm threatening to happen.

You really had to stop getting strangled. First Myers and now Evan. You could just see the mass of muscle from between Max and Philip, he didn’t look at you again.

If you chose to think about it, it was almost like he was glowering, now that you had the attention of both his friend and his reluctant side-kick.

Or maybe he was mad. Or regretful. You didn’t know, or quite frankly care at this point. He was a dick.

“So did you have birds in the game too?” Max asked. He was propped on the log in front of you, but leaning in so close to examine the crows he may as well have been sitting in the ground.

They disregarded him.

“Well, no, but on my last… trial there was a raven that seemed to be keeping pace with me.” You rasped. While it hurt to speak, you were glad to ease some of the tension.

At that Max nodded thoughtfully. Philip seemed curious about it too, tilting his head as he listened.

“What does… ‘keeping pace’ mean?” Max asked next, taking a moment to carefully parrot the phrase.

You leaned back, pursing your lips at that. “Oh, it means, like, following you at the same speed. Pace is another word for how fast you do something.” You explaining after a moment.

Max nodded to that, he seemed like he wanted to ask something else, but he was distracted as Evan suddenly stood.

At the edge of the clearing an opening yawned, and to you- and everyone else’s surprise- carnival music began slowly drifting into the clearing.

What?

Just, what?

Max all but leapt to his feet, hurtling towards the opening. Seemingly glad for the opportunity to take hold of the group again, Evan jogged after him.

“Max! Goddamnit Max, wait!” He roared.

You stood too, following in Philips shadow. You were confused. How did this work? Did pathways just, materialize sometimes? That never happened around your old fire... 

“Does this happen a lot?” You asked, picking up the pace to keep up with Philip. He mercifully slowed his steps, keeping in line with yours. He was surprisingly thoughtful.

At your question he shook his head.

“Has it happened before?”

He nodded.

Entering the opening of trees, you and Philip picked up speed, managing to catch up to Evan and Max. Evan had Max firmly by the elbow.

“Now stay close to me, we don’t want you wandering off and getting lost.” He was saying, his voice stern. As far as you could tell this passage of space wasn’t unusual, however they hadn’t been to this particulararea before.

As the four of you broke the trees, a massive cathedral came into view. It’s arches pierced the sky, and hunched in the shadow of it you could make out the vibrant canvas of a carnival.

The scent of burnt popcorn trailed along with it; a whisper on the breeze. 

Following the gaggle of men, you approached the building, everything was surprisingly quiet; your party included. 

“Why are we sneaking?” You asked, your whisper raspy.

Evan answered your question, his voice laced with authority and surprisingly, an edge of sarcasm.

“‘’Cause someone else might call this home, we aren’t the only ones him upstairs keeps.”

You frowned at that. He was right, there were far more killers than were present here now. While you had realized they didn’t come to the clearing, you had assumed they were just in the woods.

It actually made sense that they would match their own domains too.

That being said, you figured you had been against every killer at this point, yet you had never encountered any carnivals.

You hoped the killer wasn’t some kind of carny or clown. Maybe they were a ringmaster. Or some kind of sorceress or gypsy.

Following the group, the lot of you toured the cathedral, walking across the arching balcony, and examining the broken panes of stained glass windows. Max was a machine of questions, and he mercifully was keeping Evan busy- if irritated.

This left you and Philip to trail behind, and you spent your time pointing out the architecture and chandeliers.  
As the two of you moved you couldn’t help but watch him.

He was so polite, and quiet. You had trouble believing he was anything akin to a killer. Even his gait was unimposing, smooth an brisk. He kind of reminded you of a busybody or grandma something. Always ushering around her grandchildren, trying to keep them out of trouble  and diffusing fights.  

Exiting the building, you approached the carnival, fanning out a bit. As you eyed the rotting canvas, the soft neigh of a horse caught your attention. A horse? Here?

Philip caught it too, and the two of you broke off, rounding the edge of the carnival ground. There was a carny style chariot discarded to the edge of the clearing.

Curiously, the two of you approached it. It was empty, save for a box, which Philip got right on to rummaging through. You left him to it, rounding the back most corner of the cart.

A gasp escaped you. There was a horse! An honest to god real horse! It was gorgeous, dappled grey, and laying in the grass with its legs folded.

As you approached it the stench hit you.

Rot.

Passing a hand over it’s velvety nose, you took in the rest of it.

It was charred, the right half of its body black and falling apart. Even it’s jaw was bare, leaving yellowed teeth to face the outdoor air.

You cupped a hand over your mouth, choking up. The poor thing. Philip came around as well, but as soon as he saw the animal he backed away.

Evidently you were both animal lovers, and he couldn’t bare to see it. Not interested in interacting, Philip backed off further, before vanishing deeper into the carnival grounds.   
  
  
You however, couldn't bare to just leave it.   
  


As you stroked the horses slender nose it offered a snort. To your surprise, a wide orange eye opened up in the centre of its forehead, fixing you with a slit pupil.

“Jesus!” You gasped. Your eyes locked onto its and suddenly the ground was falling away.  
  


Dropping in around you were the walls to your house.  
  
A memory?  
  
You’re inebriated.   
Beside you you’re vaguely aware of Sam, he’s got his arm around your shoulders.

“If you keep hearing someone maybe you should talk to a therapist, or… or a psychiatrist.” He way saying, his voice soft.

Anger makes your tone bitter.

“Fuck Sam, I’ve told you! It’s not like that, it’s not some kind of auditory Hal- halluc- I’m not hearing shit okay?” You growled, shoving him away.

“It’s like, I just, I don’t know man it’s like I’m possessed. I just feel so heavy. Ever since Jay passed I can’t shake it.” You confessed, you vision was fuzzy. Be it with tears or narcotics. Probably both. 

Jay was your significant other. Or they were, you had lost them last year in a car accident. The pair of you had been on your first ever road trip, when a pickup truck had crossed the centre line and hit the drivers side head on. Jay was killed instantly, and you had miraculously only suffered a fractured collar bone.

You hadn’t been the same since then. It was like that day, as you drove through the wooded highway something had latched onto you.

You tried to explain it to Sam like that but he just didn’t get it. He thought you were depressed.

“I know, but doing this,” he gestures to your chosen poison, his mouth a downward frown. “Isn’t going to help!” He spat.

Sam never got mad.   
He was a crier, even now his voice was cracking with emotion.

The hitch of his breath grated on your nerves. Why? It wasn’t like he was the one experiencing it. What did he know?  
Whatever hold you usually had on your self control was slipping, and you felt a migraine setting in.

“It is helping, I can’t hear it like this.” You growled, turning away from him. You tried to stand up, stumbling into the countertop.

You closed your eyes tightly a moment, trying to fight of the growing heartbeat between your ears. It sounded like someone was speaking to you, their voice a harsh groaning whisper.

Words never formed, however a genuine animalistic hunger awoke, burning at the back of your throat. It coursed up through your veins and into your muscles.

You felt strong.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What’s happening?” A panicked voice began, and as he spoke the sensation receded ever so slightly.

But you didn’t want that, it felt so good. You had never felt better, so strong.

  
Sam. It’s Sam, something is wrong.

You manage to lift your head enough to glance at him, and I’m that moment his mouth drops in a half scream. Closing your eyes you tried to focus.

You could hear him stumbling away from you.

He starts speaking again but you loose his voice as the whispering starts up again. The voice, it’s starting to sound familiar.

Jay? Suddenly it’s clear, totally clear.

“It’s okay, just let go.” They say, and your heart swells. Oh god you had wanted nothing more than to hear that voice.

You relax a little and you can feel the same strength swell into your body, across from you Sam’s face has twisted, he’s sobbing, and he taking a few fearful steps towards you.

He grabs your hand, he’s begging you, but you don’t know what he’s saying. The whispering is blocking out his words. Jay is blocking out his words.

Sam is shouting, and finally his words meet you- the sound splintering in your brain. Every phrase felt like it was forcing you and Jay apart.

“SAM, STOP. SHUT UP!” You try to say, but your words tumble out, contorted and unintelligible.

He can’t do this to you, you feel so much better, Jay is here.

When he starts up again you grab him, shaking his shoulders. Violently enough that he grabs the countertop. He’s fumbling for something.

Silver glints between his fingertips and you realize he’s grasped a knife from the countertop.

Pain punctures your thigh and you release him, staggering back. A sick sense of clarity floods you and all the noise stops.

Strength suddenly sucked from your limbs you fall back, hitting the floor hard.

“S-Sam I’m so sorry.” You begin, staring at him from across the kitchen.

“What was that?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper. You just shake your head, your eyes falling to the knife protruding from your leg.

“I didn’t mean to, I-“ Sam begins again, he’s a mess, his face and shirt collar soaked in tears. There’s blood on his hands.

Grasping the knife you tug it out of your leg, pausing when you see your hands. They’re wrong, your fingers are long and scaled, ending in wicked talons. They look like bird feet.

For a moment you just stare, then Jay’s voice returns to you, so sickly sweet.

“He’s yours. Take him so I can see you.” They purr. This time you can’t control it, the feeling overtakes you. You feel like a puppet on a set of strings. Straining against the sensation you feel your muscles tensing.

“Sam, go, you have to go!” You beg, and he turns away. The moment he begins to run you’re hurting after him, so much faster.

Some animalistic part of you revels in it, and you close the distance in single bounds. One monstrous hand grabs his foot, and he falls flat onto his stomach.

He’s bigger than you but you flip him easily.

You pull him towards you, rotating the knife in your hands and…

The rest is a blur of booodlust and rage, and when it finally subsides you’re alone. Jay’s voice is gone.

It’s just you. You and Sam.

The air smells heavy and copper. You don’t need to look down to know your slathered in blood.

The silence is broken by the softest of sounds.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Sam!

“Sammy, oh my god I’m sorry.” You breath, you can barely speak, your throat is so tight. You scramble over to his broken form, taking his hand.

You could barely recognize him, how was he still holding on?

  
“I know it wasn’t you.”

He says, his eyes look at you and they’re glassy. One feeble hand reaches for your face. He struggles to say something else, but the words don’t form. They never do.

His hand falls and you catch it.

When dawn finally begins leaking into the windows you stand, grasping the knife.

You’re going to meet Sam.

When your eyes open again, your in a forest…

...Staggering away from the horse you gasp, your heart pounding. Confusion clouding your mind.

The carnival opens up around you, and everything slowly comes back to you.

I killed Sam.

The realization twists your gut; where was everyone? You didn’t want to be alone.

As you turn to look you love just in time to avoid being struck by a bottle. As soon as it hits the cart wall it explodes into glass and smoke.

The acrid scent makes you cough immediately, and you struggle to run away from it.

The whole world spins around you, your vision a kaleidoscope of confusion. Once you manage to make your way from the cloud a strong arm seizes you.

You hope it’s Evan, but when you crane your neck to see your captor, you’re shocked to see a clown.

A fucking clown? Seriously?

You swing back your hand to summon your club, but before you can there’s a switchblade to your throat. He isn’t gentle with it, and you can feel the blade bite into the flesh of your neck.

A shallow part of you doesn’t want to fight him. Not after the shock of everything you had just learned.

“Hello darling.” The man rasps, guiding you backwards. The two of you enter the centre of the carnival one step at a time, and no sooner after you stop does he let out a dry throaty laugh. You can feel his belly shake against your back.

“Let go, you fuck.” You hiss, but it lacks power. You’re still in shock from the previous revelation.

Raising shaking hands you pried at the blade baring your throat; finding your fingers clicking against the metal. Clicking? A half glance at you hands confirmed your fears; claws. You had long wicked claws.

I really am a monster.

The thought crossed your mind, and your hands fell slack.

“That’s a girl.” Your captor crooned.

Left of you came a crash, and Philip came stumbling into the clearing. Wheezing hissed from him, and you realized he must have seen the commotion and ran to get Evan and Max.

Following a few steps behind was Max, who stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing the clown. You doubted he had ever seen something like a circus before, let alone a carny.

“Well, well aren’t you two fit for a Freak Show? If I were still in business I’d of had you for sure.” The clown sneered from behind you.

Max made an audible noise of hurt, recoiling a few steps. Philip reacted swiftly, standing ahead of his companion; blocking Max from the Clown’s view. It earned another phlegmy laugh.

At last Evan plowed into the clearing, already bristling.

“Lord, and look at this fuck, we got a Strongman to finish off the lot.” The clown took a step back, dragging you with him, giving a last bitter bark of a laugh. He seemed to be enjoying this, revelling in his new found power position.

Grunting as you felt a bead of blood run down your neck, your eyes fell on Evan. Seeing how everything else had gone as of late, you doubted he would risk much to free you.

Taking a few more paces towards the clown, Evan raised his hands.

“Alright alright, let’s not be brash. We wanted to talk, strike up a deal.” He stated, his baritone voice surprisingly calm.

You turned away, your face contorted with bitterness. Of course he wanted a deal, he didn't have much on the line to lose.

The clown didn’t say anything, just adjusted his weight from foot to foot, as if comically thinking it over.

“And what have I got to gain?” He asked after a moment.

Evan’s posture tensed; clearly not the answer he was hoping for.

“If you let the kid go we won't cause a problem. We’ll be nice ‘n sivle.” Evan replied, his tone was reasonable, but his body language let on that his patience was wearing thin.

The clown laughed at that.

“Hmm.” He muttered, beginning to pace. As he did so he dragged you along with him, and you had to watch your steps as to not walk too early or late- causing the blade to dig in. He finally stopped; not facing the group.

“Alright, I’ll be ‘nice n’ sivle.” The clown mocked. “If you give me a token.” He stated, all but singing, he took great care to parrot Evan’s exact words, his voice thick with a sarcastic English accent.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands.” Evan growled.

“Oh?” The clown went on. He was banking heavily on you being a useful bargaining chip. That being said he was still being blatantly disrespectful. The fact that he had his back to potential enemies was just one more jab.

“It’s three on one, do you want to risk that?” Evan sneered.

Your captor turned at that, pouting his lips in thought. He then shrugged his shoulder, rotating the knife in his hand before raising it to strike.

Well, if we can't reach a deal…” He mumbled, his voice thick with false pitty.

Philip reacted first, grabbing Evan by the arm. He was shaking his head furiously, clearly opposed to losing their newfound friend. Max came to his other side, speaking before Evan could get a word in.

“No! You can’t let him Evan!” He begged, his eyes round and terrified.

“Alright, alright, what...token do you want?” Evan growled, clearly unhappy with the ultimatum.

The Clown beamed at this, standing up all the straighter. Using his free hand he procured a ring from his side. Even from where you stood, you could see what it was lined with; fingers.

“Just a digitte, that’s all it takes.” He purred.

Your eyes widened, and you looked from the Clown to your party of four.   
When nobody made a move, the Clown rolled his eyes.

“Good Lord above you folks are tense. Look, I’m a nice guy, I’ll let your pet go free; just know the second you lot turn around, I ain’t gonna be so friendly.”

A few tense seconds of trepidation passed, and you thought he was going to slit your throat anyways, when he dropped his hand, giving you a sharp shove between the shoulder blades.

As soon as the metal left your throat you pelted back to your cluster; running into the safety of your group. When you dared look back, the Clown was grinning.

You had no doubts he was kind of hoping for a fight. And your lot had no idea what he was packing. Besides; he had home ground. Who knew what else was hiding on these grounds.

As your group turned to leave you stayed, staring back at the insidious caricature of humour. Your gaze fell to your hands; unrecognizable. Scaly like some kind of raptor, and ending in those talons. You hated it.

They were a reminder of what you were. You took a breath. Today had been an experience, and had it not been for that horse, you still would have been lost. You needed to see it again, you needed to remember more. Maybe your trio could learn more. To pass it up was stupid…

Setting your jaw, you walking right back up to the clown, extending a hand.

“Now there’s a smart one.” He praised, taking your hand as a gentleman would.

“Did you know every finger has a meaning?” He stated, fanning out your wicked claws.

“The pinky, is intuition, and communication…” He held it, giving you a side eye. “I think you might need this one… The Ring finger, is love, and creativity; also very important. The Middle finger, responsibility- very important- but also the one that can tell people to fuck off. The Index finger is leadership, and self-esteem. Also very important, but you do already have a leader…” He cast his eyes to Evan, who just seemed to have noticed you weren't in tow. You didn't look at him; just the clown. “And the thumb is ambition and self-assertion.” He concluded, giving your thumb a wiggle.

Behind you, you could feel Evan watching. He didn’t do anything to stop you, it felt like one more unseen knife to the gut. You were beyond caring. At least today.

“Y’know, you’ve got such a lovely face. And bigger balls than any of that lot- I’ll think I’ll take this; you won’t be needing it here right?” With that he flicked his wrist, severing your ring finger from your hand.

“Agh!” You gasped, pulling your hand away and clutching it to your chest.

He held the didgett before you, giving it a friendly wave back before- to your surprise- putting it to his lips, and licking off the blood.

“A deal’s a deal big guy! Welcome o the carnival!” He laughed, turning away.

You watched him go, your nose wrinkled in disgust. With on last lingering look at your hand, you turned to your companions.

They all had their eyes on you, clearly shocked. You didn't care- couldn’t care. As a clearing opened up ahead of you, you walked; pushing past Max and Philip.

Evan barred your path, but he couldn’t intimidate you, not now. Even though he towered over you, you shoved past him. Not waiting to see if the followed, you made your way back home.

The clearing seemed especially dark, and you took care to walk straight up to the fire. It had fallen low since your venture, but still had a few smoldering coals. Perfect. Without a moment's hesitation you ground the stump of your finger into them, clenching your teeth hard to keep back a yelp. With the wound cauterized, it would do you no more trouble; it was done.

Taking a seat, you didn’t bother to look up as everyone else fell in around you.

Evan looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could Max cut in.

“You okay?” He asked softly, his puppy-dog eyes searching your face. A breathed a weary sigh, clenching your one-digit-short hand a little tighter.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” You sighed, giving him a weak smile. He brightened at this, ready to move on.

“And what was that guy? He was so colourful.” He went on, this time turning to Evan.

“He was, er, a clown. They’re people who are supposed to do an act, or joke to make you laugh.” Evan stated begrudgingly.

“He wasn’t very funny.” Max frowned, looking at the ground.

“No he wasn’t” Evan confirmed, letting out a tired sigh. Max however wasn’t finished.

“And what’s a ‘Freak Show’?” He asked next. “I know a freak ain’t a good thing, why’d he say that to me?” Max asked next, looking upset again.

“They were, well, these events where shitty people would put... other people who looked...different on display.” Evan said after a few moments. “But that doesn’t mean you;re anything like that Max, that guy was just an asshole.” He amended.

Max didn’t seem satisfied with that, but he didn’t press the matter.

As the firelight drew dimmer he stifled a yawn.

“I’m gonna sleep.” He proclaimed after a moment, getting to his feet. Philip stood too, offering Evan a long look. When Evan broke the contact he turned away, following Max into the shelter.

It didn’t take long for snoring to begin slowly drifting its way out on the breeze.

Looking into the flames, you were barely aware of the pain in your hand. All you could see was that moment, played over and over again. The knife in your hands… Sam’s face...

Even when you closed your eyes it played, like a never ending movie. You were vaguely aware of Evan’s eyes on you, or at least on your neck. You probably looked pretty banged up, still bruised and swollen and now sporting a thin bloody line from a fucking clown attack.

  
He cleared his throat.

Slowly your eyes rose to meet his.

“Look, you didn't have to do that back there.” He began, and you felt yourself already beginning to recoil. He seemed to sense this, and went on.

“But I’m glad you did. You really took one for the team there.” He paused for a minute, looking into his hands.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t do something sooner, it should have been me. I… I uh, know I ain’t been treating you right. I know saying so isn’t worth much, but I am truly sorry.” As he spoke you felt his eyes fall to your neck again and you straightened.

“Don’t worry about it.” You managed after a moment. He seemed to tense ever so slightly at your words, like he wanted to press the matter. A hunch told you he knew you were brushing it off- that your mind was elsewhere. He didn’t seem to like your guarded attitude, but didn't press the matter.

“So why did you do it?” He asked.

A bitter snort of laughter escaped you, and you leaned back, finally meeting his gaze.

“Figured it was for the best, I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

He grunted at that, nodding.

“And now that you’re here you’re part of the family.” With that he stood, and for once he didn’t seem to intimidating. Just weary. He beckoned you.

“C’mon let’s go inside.” He prompted, and with that turned to the shack.

Despite leaving the fire’s side you felt… warm.


	5. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader finally manages to catch a break; but will it last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per susual, I have yet to do my edit, so apologies for any spelling errors.
> 
> Additionally, I'm going to start adding a dash of romance; as such I've decided to give the reader female pronouns to make writing a little easier for myself. They have of course been refered to as gender neutral up until now; hopefully that doesn't mess with the flow for anyone. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Falling asleep was easy, and you thankfully dreamed of nothing. That being said, you did wake with a start, sitting up suddenly with the unpleasant sensation of being watched.

 

Glancing around you saw nothing, which in itself was a surprise.  _ You could see.  _ Even in the pitch black your eyes pierced the dark. 

 

Max lay beside the door, flat in his back, snoring loudly. Evan was to your right near the corner, also on his back. While he didn’t snore, his chest rose and fell in deep breaths. 

 

On your left was Phillip, who was on his side facing you, you were surprised to see his eyes on you; heavy lidded and tired. 

 

Letting out a soft noise he extended a hand towards you, beckoning you closer. Unsure, you shuffled over a few paces. 

 

Seeing as you didn’t move quite into his bubble of personal space, he closed the distance. Sliding right up to your flank he layed back down, this time more or less spooning you. 

 

You were beside yourself with surprise, flattered, and also a bit bashful. You had missed this kind of closeness, and you were surprised to receive it here of all places. 

 

Easing into him you relaxed, letting the stress of everything that occurred in the past few hours melt away. 

 

You awoke only once more, at the noise of someone getting up. Eyes open in just a smidge, you found yourself now facing Phillip, with your head under his chin. He was still deep asleep.

 

So it was Evan. Feeling his face on yours, you closed your eyes. There was shuffling to the back of the shack, before you felt- to your surprise- cloth. Evan had put a blanket on the two of you. 

 

Where he had stashed a blanket was beyond you. That being said you were thankful, and honestly, far more comfortable. 

 

Evan’s heavy footsteps faded, and you once again eased into sleep. 

 

This time you dreamed. 

 

You were high in the sky, peering above a murky forest. Trees passed beneath you, and you caught an updraft. It felt so freeing, so good, and you shot up higher and higher on it. 

 

Folding your murky black wings you arked to the side, rounding back the way you had come.

 

In the distance you could see the shelter, a white smudge in the clearing. Beneath you, vibrance caught your eye.

 

Yellow.

 

You dove lower, dipping through the bows with precision. Below you was a man, clad in a yellow apron, moving through the trees with purpose.

 

Sitting up suddenly, you gasped, looking around. 

 

“Philip! Someone’s coming.” You said, as soon as you gathered yourself. He sat up as well, tilting his head to you, as if asking for an elaboration.

 

Before you could begin to explain the deep revving of a chainsaw split the air of the clearing, reverberating in the silence of the shack. 

 

You hoped it was Max.

 

Rising from under the table where he had been rummaging, Max stood, looking excited. He sprinted outside, far before you or Philip could react.

 

So it wasn’t him. Shit.

 

Philip breathed a deep sigh, as if already weary. Easing yourself up, you folded the sheet, setting it aside before creeping up to the door.

 

Watching from the safety of the frame, you saw Leatherface. Clenching your teeth you felt your nails dig into the wood of the shack.

 

You had the misfortune of meeting him many times. Nausea threatened as your body violently recalled the sensation of being slashed with his chainsaw.

 

You shook your head, training your eyes on him and Max.

 

“See, like this!” Leatherface was saying, he had his chainsaw on the ground, with the panel open, and was showing Max something.

 

“Oh! I never thought of that, thanks Bubba!” He replied cheerily, offering the larger man a pat on the shoulder. 

 

Leatherface's name was Bubba then?

 

It was rare to see Max being physically affectionate with anyone, and you regarded the interaction with surprise. 

 

Bubba looked equally as happy, standing with his hands on his hips, and his chin proud and high. 

 

“Hold on, I found some other parts too!” Max added cheerily, getting up. He ran past you into the house, and you looked after him.

 

When you turned back Bubba was staring at you. Should you introduce yourself? 

 

Taking a few steps from the shelter, you approached him. 

 

He stood as still as a tree for a few tense heartbeats, before he grasped the hammer that had been resting by his feet.

 

He rotated it in his hand easily, suddenly moving towards you.

 

“Philip!” You gasped, wiping out in the grass for a moment in your haste to run away. Philip immurged in an instant, and you hugged him.

 

He actually  _ hissed  _ at Bubba, who paused at the occurrence. Max came sprinting out the door a moment later, shaking his own weapon.

 

“Bubba no! This is our friend!” He scolded, shaking his head at the massive man. 

 

“But that’s…” He began, tilting his head. He almost looked like a sad puppy. 

 

“This one’s different, she only looks a little bit like us.” He explained, seemingly proud of being the one to set things straight. 

 

“Oh.” Bubba stayed, regarding you from behind that disturbing mask. You had shuffled to face him, but Philip still stood at your back, with on arm protectively around your shoulders.

 

Not affected long, Bubba straightened then.

 

“Can she play?” He asked, and Max turned to you, looking absolutely beside himself with delight. 

 

“Can you!?” Max asked excitedly.

 

“No.” A deep voice growled. Evan had returned, slowly walking up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Philip. 

 

He must have been successful in his trial, at least in some regard, his cleaver was still dripping with blood. 

 

“Go on and play by yourselves, she needs to rest.” He went on, shooing them with his other hand.

 

Max turned first, running off into the opposite end of the clearing, with Bubba hot on his tail. To your surprise, Bubba leapt and literally tackled Max, with an audible thump of flesh.

 

Max landed hard, but turned, laughing nonetheless. There was dirt on his chin from hitting the ground so hard. He wound up, punching Bubba right across his leathery mug. 

 

That was playing?

 

Jesus, you were suddenly very glad Evan had stepped in. You had enough owies as is. 

 

Taking a few massive steps away, Evan wandered to the fireside, restocking it with some fresh wood. Following in his steps, Philip guided you over as well.

 

Easing yourself onto the grass, you passed a hand subconsciously over the line on your neck; now scabbed over. 

 

You could feel Evan looking at you. After a moment he let out a grunt, and turned away from you and Philip; back into the shelter. 

 

Your eyes strayed after him, widening when he emerged a few moments later with the same medical kit you had stolen when you first arrived. His other hand held a short metal bucket, which sloshed as he moved.

 

Surprisingly, he didn’t hand it to you, instead he eased himself onto the grass beside you; propped only partially up on one knee.

 

“Let me have a look.” He stated, gesturing to your neck.

 

“A w-wha?” You stuttered. It all seemed so bizarre, you were reluctant to move. Was Evan… being nice? Was he sick?

 

“You’re all caked in blood, n’ shite. It’s going to get infected.” He explained, looking impatient. 

 

“Do you want Philip to do it?” He began again, when you didn’t respond. He almost looked embarrassed. 

 

Half glancing at Philip, you were met with smiling eyes. He was getting a kick out of this. 

 

“No, that’s fine…” You said after a moment. 

 

_ Don’t be a pussy, c’mon! _

 

He was kneeling across from you, looking awkward with the kit in his hands. It seemed so small when he held it. 

 

Biting your lip, you shuffled forwards until you were close enough to rest your hands on his thighs. He seemed surprised you actually did it; and also exchanged a look at Philip.

 

Stifling a little whoosh of a laugh, Philip gestured towards the two of you, suggesting he should start. 

 

Tilting your head to the side, you bared the wound at him. Without hesitation he dipped a hand into the bucket, producing a torn shred of cloth. Wringing out the excess water, he proceeded to dab at the wound.

 

Raising his other hand, he placed it under your chin. You flinched at first, the bruising on your throat an all too fresh reminder. 

 

He seemed to wilt at that. 

 

“I’m s-“ He began, but you cut him off, meeting his eyes.

 

“It’s fine, I… trust you.” You said after a moment, looking away. Were your cheeks red? 

 

Evan paused for a moment, searching your face, before continuing. From where you sat you could see the bucket, and you were surprised at the amount of crimson that stained the water.

 

Perhaps the wound had been worse than you thought.

 

Dropping the hand that held your chin, he reached for your hand and you let him take it. 

 

Carefully fanning out your fingers he examined your long hooked claws, eventually moving on to dab at the dried blood that had crusted around the stump of your middle finger. 

 

You winced as he did so, the pain that you had managed to push aside this whole time throbbing back to life. It was like when you cut yourself, but didn’t realize until you touched it. 

 

Evan seemed very focused on the task at hand, after he was finished with the cloth he tossed it into the fire, where the water hissed away into steam.   
  
To your side Philip sat; he was blissfully ignoring the both of you now, watching the fire dance to the odd thump of Max and Bubba’s ‘game’. 

 

Digging around it the medical kit he produced the antibiotic spray. His eyes met yours for a moment. 

 

“Sorry.” He said, spraying the liquid onto the stump that was left of your finger. Your nose wrinkled. 

 

You turned up your chin so he could spray the thin line along your throat, letting out a surprisingly animalistic growl of displeasure at the sting. 

 

When it was all said and done Evan packed up the kit, slowly getting to his feet. As he did so, he gave you a brief pat on the head- to your surprise. 

 

“There.” He grunted, making a brisk escape back into the shack. 

 

When you glanced at Philip he had his head resting on his first. Clearly amused, he glanced from you to the door Evan had vanished in, before raising his eyebrows.

 

Your cheeks flushed. 

 

“Don’t look at me like that!” You stammered, earning a huff of laughter from Philip.   
  
“Besides, you were the one that got all cuddly on me.” You retorted, Philip shrugged his shoulders as if to say ‘guilty as charged’. 

  
Stretching out your legs, you breathed a weary sigh, the sting slowly fading from your wounds. From somewhere above you, you heard a soft flutter, and as soon as you glanced skywards the dark shadow of your raven came into view. Slowly it drifted to the ground, landing beside you with a soft thump.   
  
Realization struck you the moment he landed.   
  
Your dream! You had been seeing out of the eyes of your raven!   
  
“Philip!” You said suddenly, gesturing to the raven. Sort of at a loss for words. “This! This is how I knew!” You exclaimed, much to Philip’s confusion.    
  
“In my dream! I was seeing through the ravens eyes!” You cheered, the revelation causing your voice to raise. At the commotion Evan came back outside; even Max and Bubba paused; albeit only until Bubba decided to kick out one of Max’s legs.    
  
“What’s this about a dream?” Evan asked, he was drying his hands on his coveralls.    
  
“Earlier today, I had this dream I was flying, and I saw Bubba coming to the clearing, when I woke up; he was here!” You said excitedly, sitting up ever straighter.    
  
“Did you guys have something similar when you got you powers?” You asked, glancing from Evan to Philip.    
  
Silence.   
  
Evan glanced at Philip, who was looking away from the fire now, his gaze clouded. “I wouldn’t call them powers.” Evan stated, his voice dry.    
  
You slumped, way to hit a nerve. Mentally you kicked yourself, folding your hands in your lap. The raven stood by your hands, occasionally poking its beak against your talons. 

  
“Er, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. This isn’t a superpower… I meant, did you get your… abilities all at once, or was it more like… this.” You asked, gesturing to your hands. Philip was still looking away, his expression wistful.    
  
Evan sighed. “It’s possible. In all honesty I can't remember very much from when I first got here.” His voice was low, and you could see as plain as the mask on his face that he didn’t want to discuss it further.   
  
“Oh.” Was all you managed.    
  
With that, Philip rose, slowly walking into the shack; presumably to sleep. You watched him leave, offering a soft smile that you don't think he saw.    
  
Silence lapsed on for quite some time, before Bubba was seen crossing the domain; out of the clearing. In the distance flickered a fire's light, and you realized he must have been heading to trial. You watched him go.   
  
Once his yellow apron vanished into the trees, Max slowly came limping over, looking absolutely spent.    
  
“I think I’m getting better.” He declared, sitting in a heap by the fire. Even though his tone was jovial, he seemed tuckered out. All that ‘play’ time had him exhausted. To nobody’s surprise, he was asleep in minutes.    
  
“I’m gonna put him in.” Evan murmured eventually, and you offered a confirmation nod. Scooping the other killer as though he weighed nothing he entered the shack.   
  
Leaning back you waited for him to return. He didn’t. You frowned.   
  
Maybe he was just tired.   
  
Or maybe your dumb big mouth had a struck a nerve. It seemed every time you made progress here, you would set yourself back. Clenching your hands, you shuddered, feeling those wicked talons prick your palm.    
  
For the first time in a while, that hopelessness washed over you, making your skin prickle. The rave reacted to this instantly, hopping up to you with gusto, and pecking, hard, at the center of your leg.    
  
“Hey!” You hissed, trying to swat it away. It stayed just out of reach, staring back at you with those black eyes. You rubbed the spot, he had it you… Exactly where Sam had stabbed you that night.    
  
The night your started losing control.   
  
When you had hands like these…   
  
“...Sam?” 


	6. Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader discovers a few new revelations, and shares a tender moment with the Evan~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Dialogue is my long time enemy. >:o   
> Hope you enjoy! <3

To your delight, the bird fluttered excitedly at this, hopping back into your range of motion. Before he could flutter away you grabbed him, hugging him as gently as you could manage. 

 

Making a soft noise he endured it, and you all but smothered him. Maybe this was just a coincidence, and this was just any other raven. But maybe it wasn’t. You had to hope it wasn’t. 

 

“Shit Sam I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” You began, shaking your head. He looked up at you pointedly, before gently nestling his beak into the crook under your chin. 

 

_ I know _ . The words were barely a whisper, Met only by the furthest edge of your consciousness. The part you were afraid of. 

 

Leaning back, you rested in the grass, your eyes closing with the motion. Sam clambered from your lap onto your chest, easing himself into a comfortable resting position. Your hand passed over his glossy black feathers. 

 

So many things rushed through your head, you had so much you wanted to say, to tell him, but no words would form. You would make it up to him, somehow. 

 

As you lay back, you felt a strange numbness at the back of your mind, it spread to your limbs. Panic struck you hard as you realized you were paralyzed. Inky blackness ate up your peripheral vision, eventually overtaking everything. 

 

For a while you were just suspended, the world around you simple nothingness.

 

But just as it materialized it faded, and you found yourself on your feet, deep in the thick of fog. Was this a dream? 

 

From the reaches you saw a massive shape, it was enormous, entire stories high. Black as night, you saw two massive slender legs puncture the ground in front if you. 

 

Trying to stagger back, you found yourself trapped; as if cemented in place. Sensing your fear, you heard a voice erupt from the mass of dark. A rasping whisper, a bitter groan, you had heard it before.

 

The Entity. 

 

You steeled yourself. 

 

You wouldn’t let it take hold of you, not now. 

 

_ Why do you tense from me, my child? _

 

The Entity rasped, it’s amalgam voice scraping against your mind. You didn’t respond, just glared back at the formlessness.

 

_ I see you’re changing. I’m proud, do you like the gifts I’ve given you? Those hands are familiar no? Do remember me giving you a taste of their power? _

 

You growled at that. Motioning towards it you spat into the darkness alongside its legs. 

 

“I don’t want your ‘gifts’ you fuck.” You hissed, hands clenching.

 

“I never wanted any of this shit! If you want to give me a gift, let me go  _ home!”  _ You retorted. You felt unusually strong, the Entity didn’t scare you.

 

There was silence for a moment. 

 

_ I recall it… _ The Entity began again. Just as it had in your memory, you saw the walls of your house begin to rise. No, not again. You didn’t want to see that memory. 

 

That place wasn’t home. Even if it wasn’t some cheap copy, you couldn’t never call that place home again. 

 

_ Change your mind?  _ The building sunk back into the fog. 

 

_ I have something you might truly appreciate.  _ Ahead of you the spider like limbs receded, before emerging once more, clutching something. Dwarfed by the massive legs, you almost didn’t recognize your club.

 

It was a club no longer. The bone was longer still, with one end still wrapped in cloth. The other however had been reshaped, it bore a wide arc, and you recognized it as a sickle. It was in the shape of a birds skull. Two notches were still burned out of the end of the bone, giving it teeth. 

 

Refusing to reach out and take it, the weapon smouldered into ashes, only to materialize in your palm. It was well balanced, perfect for you, really. 

 

You hated it. 

 

_ Do you recognize that bird? I’m quite fond of them. I brought your companion here as one, did he find you?  _

 

You gasped at that. So the raven  _ was  _ Sam! 

 

“How? Why did you bring him here?” You questioned, leaning forward.

 

_ I didn’t, you did. I just changed him to fit in.  _

 

The answer stung, but you knew it was truthful. Sam died at your hands, not the Entity’s. Closing your eyes tightly, you tried not to think about it; not to let this monster manipulate you. 

 

_ “ _ How did you do this? To me, to… us.” You asked, opening your eyes once more. 

 

There was silence for a moment.

 

_ I thrive in chaos, I devour hope. When there is tragedy I’m at my strongest. I claim those who commit atrocities in your world, and any who stray too close to my manifestations. Those you call survivors are the same as the monsters you break bread with, just lost in hopelessness.  _

 

You were surprised at the honesty. And the sheer magnitude of power. Part of you had always hoped this was some kind of dream. Or hell on Earth realized, but no. It was neither. It was a separate beast entirely. 

 

Like another dimension.

 

_ You were different. I found you when you were low; your mate had died, no? It was tragic, enough that I could see it. You were so deliciously  _ broken.  _ I found that I could reach some part of you. The hopelessness so akin to my precious children. All I had to do was wait for you to become weak, then I could pull the strings. Being human is…  _ The voice died out.

 

Broken. You had been broken that night. 

 

_ I had doubts however. I thought your humanity may have been too much. So I put you in the trials. Humans watching other humans die… it does something to them. Changes them. All I needed was to wait and see if you changed.  _

 

There was a deep sinuous laughter.

 

You had.

 

Barely on your feet, you stared back, lost. An insidious desire writhed in your core, and your weren’t sure if it was the Entity making an example, or simply rage. 

 

_ We are part of each other now, you can’t escape it. Can’t escape me. So, play along with your little friends. The moment you lose hope- and you will, little ones like you always do- that’s truly when we become one.  _

 

The words echoed around you. Raising the sickle that rested in your hand you lunged, slashing out at the leg nearest to you. 

 

As soon as you swung you were falling, face down with the ground rushing to meet you. Closing your eyes before you hit the grass, you tensed for impact. 

 

Instead of smashing into the earth however, you sat up. Sam squaked in surprise, barely managing to land on his feet. 

 

Numbness still gathered in the ends of your limbs, your hands tingling as sensation slowly returned to you. It took awhile for you to understand your surroundings. 

 

Still outside, you lay half propped up by the fire, which had died out some time ago. Someone was supporting your back, their broad hand keeping you upright despite the weakness. 

 

Evan.

 

He was sat behind you, his shoulders tense with worry. 

 

Upon you seeing him he began to speak. 

 

You didn’t hear him, instead turning and burying yourself into his arm. 

 

You cried, again; you were fucked. 

Everything was fucked. 

 

You were trapped in a hellscape dimension with no hope of ever seeing your family or friends again. Worse yet, you were a monsterous time bomb. How long would it be until you were the one claiming lives? Burrowing those wicked claws into Quentin, or Jake or David or Nea or any of your other friends. 

 

Evan pressed a hand against your back, he was big enough to wrap his arms around you almost twice. 

 

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” He was saying, his voice surprisingly soft. He repeated the phrase, over and over again as you sobbed. You did this until you had no tears left to cry, before finally easing into a sopping rag doll of a mess. 

 

Making no effort to stop you aside from the comforting words, he rubbed circles on your back. 

 

“Evan, I can’t. I can’t do the work. My friends-“ your breath hitched “How am I supposed to kill my friends?” You whispered, finally leaning back.

 

“I’ll lose myself I know it.” You stated, your words barely audible. 

 

It was like you had a guillotine sitting above you,  just waiting for the smallest slip of conciseness. One tiny mistake and it was over, your humanity severed.

 

Evan released his grip on you, letting you break the contact. His hand however stayed protectively against your back.

 

“I know. I… we’ll figure something out. The others, I can talk to them about doing the work.” He grunted, nodding thoughtfully for a moment. 

 

Taking a deep breath, you wiped your face with the back of your hand. Your arms… they were longer than before, more slender, and your hands, they were jet black, any human features lost. 

 

From your wrist up sprouted the occasional spine, the longer of which were punctuated by slender feathers. 

 

These parts of you, they were unrecognizable. 

 

“Thank you.” You sighed, nodding. 

 

It was getting worse. Evan could see it too. 

 

“I talked to the Entity.” You began after a moment. Evan nodded at this.

 

“I thought as much, he communes while we sleep.” 

 

“Ah.”

 

Silence lapses for a moment, before you began again.

 

“Back at the carnival, there was a horse. It has something to do with the Entity. When I touched it… I- I remembered. I know why I’m  _ here _ .” You stayed, this time turning to face Evan. 

 

He tilted his head thoughtfully at that; he didn’t speak- the silence his way of gently prompting you on. 

 

Taking a deep breath, you leaned back. At your side Sam fluttered: evidently curious as well. 

 

“I… I lost my significant other. It was in a car accident, it never should have happened. That night, I guess the Entity  _ saw,  _ it like, latched onto me. I could hear it. It wouldn’t leave me Evan, I tried everything to make it stop.” You glanced at him. His body language was unreadable.

 

Sam let out the softest suggestion of noise.

 

“It started getting to me, and one night I just- I couldn’t stop it. I attacked my closest friend. I- he…” You took a moment, your throat tightening. 

 

You closed your eyes. 

 

“I killed my best friend Sam. I stabbed him in the back. I tore him apart like a fucking  _ animal _ and then… Then I came back to myself and I had to just sit and  _ look.  _ I murdered the only person who ever had my back.” 

 

Your face twisted. Sam rested his head on your leg. Fingers brushed through his ebony feathers. 

 

“Sam, I’m so sorry you have to be stuck like this.” You whispered. 

 

A few moments passed, before Evan broke the silence.

 

“I don’t think it’s hopeless. When you arrived here. You were human; you didn’t begin turning until you lost hope. So, perhaps it can be revered.” 

 

He leaned back on his palms. 

 

“When I got here, I didn’t start off human. The Entity took me…” He paused. It was obvious the topic pained him, you could see his shoulders fall even now.

 

He continued nevertheless. “It took me after… the incident. See, I used to work with my father. He owned a mine- I’m sure you’ve seen the… replica.”

 

You nodded. It was hard to miss, probably one of the largest stretches of territory you had seen thus far. 

 

“It was good for a long while, we were making a lot of money. Our family was influential because it.”

 

“We lived in luxury, sprawling mansions, decadent parties that hosted our bitter rivals; but they were nothing compared to us.” 

 

“My father however, he got sick. I was infuriated with him, with the workers… They were working for the biggest- wealthiest business in the world. I didn’t know how they couldn’t see it. It ate at me. We surpassed every company in stock value. It was all thanks to me. Nothing motivates like fear…”

 

He trailed a moment. His eyes were far, far away. His gaze fixed on some imaginary point pit of your view. 

 

“After awhile; production slowed. The workers didn’t want to do the work anymore. I was angry. I could strike them down; but they still wouldn’t  _ listen.  _ Eventually I decided to just take anyone who wouldn’t jump when I said jump and put them in the shaft. When I had them all rounded up I detonated it.”

 

Finally returning to himself he looked into his hands. Silence stretched between the two of you.

 

“Evan-“ You began, but he cut you off.

 

“I couldn’t bare the weight of knowing what I had done. The blood on my hands… I told my father. Do you know what he said to me?” He asked.

 

You shook your head. 

 

“He called me a monster, a vile wicked beast. ‘Said I was no son of his.’  _ I was so angry _ . I told him, ‘I did what you couldn’t!’...” 

 

His baritone shifted, as if he were reliving the whole scene. 

 

He took another breath, his voice was broken. Raw. You had never heard such anguish. 

 

“I picked him up and carried him outside. I told him ‘if you think I’m a monster, I’ll be a monster’ and I broke his legs. Left him there… I took anyone who asked about him too. Friends, neighbours, it didn’t matter… I lit myself. When I came to I was here. Like this. it seemed a fitting place.” He shook his head, putting a hand under the darkness that resided beneath the mask. 

 

Your heart broke for him. 

 

Crawling across the distance between you, you reached for him. He was almost crumpled over, even so you had to kneel standing straight up to be level with him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed his head to your chest. 

 

“Oh Evan…” You breathed.

 

You had figured the killers had done something disgraceful to get here, but this was on a far larger scale. 

 

Even still, something had changed. Evan had changed. He was nothing like what he described. Not anymore. 

 

From your arms was a deep sigh. He didn’t  withdraw from you.

 

You don’t know how long you knelt like that, only that when Evan finally stirred your legs were far past asleep. Raindrops were beginning to fall, splattering in your hair.

 

Sam fluttered at the contact, shuffling further beneath you. 

 

“We should go in.” Evan said, his baritone almost unintelligible in its raspiness. 

 

You nodded, slowly letting your arms fall away from him. You struggled for a moment to stand. 

 

Beside you he rose, before- to your surprise- picking you up.

 

“H-hey, I can stand! You don’t have to…” you trailed, as he ignored your words: turning and walking back into the shack. 

 

Max and Philip were still sleeping soundly. Evan set you down beside Philip-where your blanket was neatly folded, turning to retreat to his own spot. 

 

You caught his hand, lifting your fingertips to avoid clawing him. 

 

“Stay here.” 

 

He hesitated, before complying. 

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

 

Easing down beside you, he rested on his back. 

 

Wrapping yourself in your blanket you cuddled up to his side, followed shortly by Philip- who had roused at the noise. 

 

You heard Sam perch in with window sill, fluttering softly before finally settling.

 

There’s peace in the rain. 


	7. Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching a break for once, you decide to practice your new abilities.

A soft grunt from your side causes you to wake. At your hip Evan breathed a deep sigh, easing into a sitting position. It appeared rather late in morning, or maybe it was evening..? It was hard to tell. 

Regardless you slowly sat up with him, hair feeling disheveled and wild. Philip and Max were already outside; the hushed tone of their conversation just barely carrying into the shack.

Rubbing your eyes, you glanced at your companion. Evan was stretching, the mass of muscle still borderline shocking to behold. You couldn’t get over the sheer size of the the man, as his scarred arms arced wide over your head.

Easing into standing position, you grabbed your blanket, folding it up into a tight square. As you did so Evan also rose, slow and and with apparent soreness. As he passed you by he gave you a surprisingly gentle touch on the shoulder.

Your eyes trailed after him, feeling almost bashful. In truth he had always woken up before you, having the opportunity to wake side by side was kind of nice.

Jogging out into the open air, you raised a hand, and from the tree line Sam fluttered down to your side. With grace he landed on your shoulder blade, teetering only once before regaining himself. 

Ever since you started cuddling up by Evan he has switched to sleeping on the window sill or in the trees nearest the shack; as opposed to on your stomach. 

Mostly due to giving the two of you some privacy, but also in order to avoid being crushed to death- Evan had accidentally rolled on you at least once.

Sitting at the fireside you have a brief wave to Philip and Max, who appeared to be discussing something very important about.. mechanics? Despite having no words, Philip seemed to be explaining something to Max, which he nodded to with great focus. You had never seen him so engaged. 

And since when did Philip know anything about mechanics?

Shrugging internally, you looked around for Evan, finding him returning from the tree line with a stack of logs. 

You smiled. It was nice to have everyone around. It felt safer. Even with the Entity breathing down your neck. 

Absently you played with Sam’s feathers, his sharp eyes roving the forest. 

You closed yours. You had only managed to use your power once with Sam, could you do it again? The parameters weren’t exactly set. Did you need to be asleep, was there a range? 

Pushing down any stray thoughts, you tried to focus. At the back of your head roved that monstrous side, and with gentle precision, you channeled it. The instinctive side was what you wanted; as it was- fortunately or unfortunately- what tethered the two of you. 

Trying to imagine Sam’s voice, you felt the faintest kick of connection. On your shoulder he chirped, and you could feel him then to face you. 

A little more… There was pressure at the back of your eyes, and a faint tugging. It wasn’t necessarily in your head, so much as in your chest… your soul? Heart? Like an elastic, it suddenly snapped into place, and both you and Sam reeled a moment. 

A rush of memories flooded through you, so fast you could barely process them. Blood. The seemingly infinite corn field stretching below. Jagged hooks. Ace’s blackened body. You… hunched over and gaunt, clutching a blade. You gasped.

When you opened your eyes, you were looking at yourself. Sam shuddered, shaking himself and the vision broke.

“Woah.” Was all you managed to say, blinking furiously a moment. Sam squawked in surprise, fluttering his wings in similar disarray.

That was weird!

A voice stated, soft but clear in the back of your kind. 

Sam’s voice. 

“Sam!?” You exclaimed, turning to him? He stared at you in bewilderment a moment.

Yeah? 

Wait, you can hear me!? The mental voice questioned, and you nodded enthusiastically. While you couldn’t see him smile, his voice was laced with excitement.

To your left Evan turned, tossing down the wood he had been holding. 

“What’s going in er’?” He asked, arms folding across his chest. You turned to him, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. 

“Sam, I can hear him! He can actually talk, but like, through my mind?” You explained, gesturing wildly with your hands.

Evan raised an eyebrow that you couldn’t see. 

“I was trying to see through his eyes again, and this sort of, bond snapped into pace!” You cheered, nodding enthusiastically. 

 

“Did you?” Evan asked, his head cocked to the side. 

“I… Kind of.” You began again. 

Turning to Sam you nodded to him, and he launched into flight from your shoulder. Shutting your eyes tight, you felt along that bond. 

It was strange, easier this time. Almost like slipping on a mental glove. When you opened your eyes again, you were high into the gray sky. Arcing below you was a sea of trees, and a tiny smudge in the middle of pale grass; that you only assume was the clearing.

As Sam turned his head your vision changed. You couldn’t move him, just saw what he saw. It was surreal. 

A soft touch to your shoulder caused you to blink, and the sky vanished, revealing the fire.

A smile played at the corners of your mouth, and you exchanged a look with Evan of pure wonder. 

While his arms were still laced in front of his chest, he seemed proud. To your surprise he passed a hand over your hair, what you could only suspect was endearment dancing in his eyes. 

He broke contact when Philip turned, gesturing with his hands.

He made a circle, referring to the lot of you, then a pair of walking fingers. He then rounded his hands into an oval that you first thought was an obscene reference. Your eyes only widened when he passed his hand through it.

You looked at Evan in surprise, but he was nodding along.

Philip went on, grasping an imaginary wheel, and pointing at you. He then put his hands over his eyes and then pulled them away suddenly. As though he was playing peekaboo with a little kid. You blinked. 

He wanted all of you to bone while driving, as you covered your eyes? 

“He wants us to visit his domain, so you can practice your raven ability.” Evan explained

You glanced between them, unsure of how in the sweet hell Evan managed to glean that from hand signs alone. But alas, they had known each other a long long time. 

The group of you set off for the trees, Max treading excitedly just behind Philip. You scanned the line for some sort of path. There was none, none that you could see out the gate. That being said, as you walked the trees transformed, yawning open in the same direction Philip led. 

As you walked, you noticed the Gas Heaven slowly unfolding before you, the fluorescent neon sign championing the horizon. 

Your party came to a stop just short of the stations building, and Philip gave a wistful look around. So this was where Philip had done… something. 

It was strange to think of Philip as a killer. He was so gentle. It seemed like such a stark contrast. He turned to face you, seeking to sense your distress.

Hugging your shoulds in a brief squeeze he then turned, shuffling at the others to go hide.

Politely you turned away, facing the garage door to the auto shop. Above you Sam cawed.

This seems like fun! It gets boring just flying around.

You snorted at Sam’s words through your link. 

“I’ll trade you.” You jested, your voice surprisingly devoid of bitterness. Even if this sucked, you had your moments. You had to enjoy the little things. 

After another minute, you turned, eyes scanning the heaps of crumpled cars. Two of your companions were over 6’6 so surely they would stick out. Or at least Evan would. 

You wondered if you should have set rules first, like no going invisible…

Frowning for a moment, you closed your eyes, the bond snapping you into place. It seemed to get easier every time you did it.

Sam leapt from his perch, beating his wings until he was high in the sky. Below the terrain stretched in all its blue grey glory.

Keen eyes scanning, Sam peered from left to right. Nothing, or nobody seemed to be sticking out… 

There was a flash of movement and Sam snapped his head to the side. From behind a stack of cars peaked Max, looking beside himself with excitement.

You actually laughed, almost breaking the connection. He was holding a branch in front of his face; the perfect camouflage.

You looked on, Sam making a large arc to angle back, it two circles before you took note of an inconsistency. One of the cars was higher than the others… 

Retracting back to yourself, you took a moment to regain yourself, before running in that direction.

You were fast, so bloody fast. Your longer limbs devoured the ground, and you rounded the bend between the stacks suddenly.

Blinking you regarded the stack, crouching to see better. You were met by Evan’s mask.

“Hello.” You greeted.

“Ma’am.” He returned.

He was on his back, sandwiched between two of the crushed cars, which he had no doubt lifted to hide between. 

Stifling a laugh, you backed away a few paces so he could get out. Shimmying one hand and one foot out, he pushed with that insane strength, lifting the car well up enough for him to sidle the rest of the way out. Most of the way out.

He grunted, a wrenching metal noise causing you to flinch. At his shoulder, you could see blood sputter from the shrapnel that gouged his flesh. Immediately you darted to his side, blacing the palms of your scaly hands against the bottom panel of the car.

“E-Evan!” You gasped. 

Evan’s grip slipped, and you managed to catch the weight, heaving it upwards with strength far beyond your mortal self. With his hands free; Evan removed himself, lurching to his feet just as you let the car drop. 

No sooner had the car fallen were you turning; checking you companion over. The shrapnel that studded his shoulder was bloody, the skin around in angered all over again. Even still, the damage seemed relatively minor. 

“Are you alright?” You questioned, once you were done hovering. He had one hand over the front of the wound, no doubt due to the soreness, but his posture seemed relaxed. 

“I think I’ll survive.” He grunted, you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“If I’d have known you were that strong I wouldn’t have bossed you around so much.” He joked, placing a playful hand on your shoulder. You squinted at him for a moment. 

 

Then broke into laughter, shaking your head. As you did so you placed your hand on his, leaning into the touch.

Above you Sam let out another soft caw, and you took an embarrassed step away. “It’s not cheating if you help, right?” You asked, a smile playing at your lips. Evan shrugged.

“Don’t see why not.” 

With that you flew up into the sky again, Sam’s wings your own as you cast around the discarded cars. 

Angling towards the spot you had last seen Max, you pivoted in the sky; finding his original spot empty. Where..? Another circle, wider and higher in the sky. You saw the faintest flicker. 

What was that?

Sam turned his attention to it fully, but you only saw shadow. No, wait… A figure! Philip! So slender, he looked like the shades half of a birch tree; the stick like formations that made up his hair only aiding in camouflaging him. 

Blinking your eyes, you returned to yourself, finding Evan standing guard over your unpresent form. Offering a grateful smile; you dashed away.

Behind you, he jogged along not quite able to keep up with your brisk pace. Just before you could round the tree Philip hid behind, you heard the soft tolling of his bell.

“Hey, cheater!” You called out, trying to pinpoint the noise. You knew you should have made a rule about going invisible! 

Turning in the direction you think he had run off to, you pelted after him. As you ran, you felt a gentle prodding, and when you turned your head, you saw a crow far to your left loft in your head. It’s voice almost speaking directly to you. 

There! Glancing over your shoulder, you gestures for Evan to stay his course; cutting off Philip’s exit. You then turned, sprinting to the line of cars he would inevitably run to.

You arrived just in time to see the faint ripple of his cloaked figure. 

“Gotcha!” You cheered, offering a devious smile as he turned away from you only to bump into Evan. As soon as the contact was made he decloaked; and Evan seized him in a hug. 

Philips shoulders shook with laughter, and you couldn’t help but join them, staving off as you recalled you still had one friend left to find. 

Strolling away from the pair, you cast your eyes across the expanse, taking note of the hunched figure slowly making his way across the open space before the gas station. Branch still in hand, Max ducked from tire to scrap pile, evidently trying very hard to go unseen.

You couldn’t help but smile. 

You turned back to you companions, one hand on your hip.

“Jeez Guys, I just can’t figure out where Max has gone! I think I might have to give up, he’s way too good at this game.” You conceded, throwing your hands in the air with mock frustration.

After a few precious seconds, you heard rapid footsteps as he stumbled up behind you.

“I won!” He declared, puffing our god chest as much as his gnarled spine would allow.

“You did! You even beat Philip!” You agreed, patting him on the shoulder.

He erupted into another fit of triumphant laughter.

It was a game well played.

 

—-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see huh? Sorry for the Hiatus! I’ve been really busy with College (summer course, rip) and it’s been a big leech on my time and energy. Additionally I had hit a sort of roadblock as to where I wanted the story to go, which was a real blow to my motivation.
> 
> That being said, I now officially have the whole story plotted out, and y’all can expect at least another 7 chapters.
> 
> With that, I would like to give a big thank you to everyone that has continued to read, comment and leave kudos! ❤️
> 
> Additionally, if you would ever like to chat about dbd feel free to hit me up on my Tumblr- ClockworkCryptid :)


	8. Contrition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On your way home, you end up visiting another killer. She offers you an ultimatum, but at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie, it's been a while, huh?
> 
> So I'm graduating college in four days (woop woop!) and finally had some time to start writing; I just updated my Michael Myers fic, and now it's back to my magnum opus. I'll give you a warning, it's gonna get pretty sad next chapter. [evilly rubs hands together] 
> 
> On a side note, please consider supporting me through my Ko-fi;  
> http://ko-fi.com/clockworkcryptid  
> Anyone kind enough to donate gets a little gift in return. <3

_There is no person so severely punished, as those who subject themselves to the whip of their own remorse. Lucius Annaeus Seneca_  
  
  
***  
  
  


After the third round, the skies had begun to grow dark. Well, darker than usual. Fog collected at the tree lines; an ominous reminder of the unknown that stretched into the trees.

 

“Suppose it’s about time we went home.” Evan stated, his baritone echoing off the shell of cars your companions resides in. 

 

You nodded your agreement, one hand propped on your knee. Sam preened on your shoulder, his movements slow and tired.

 

_ I could use a nap.  _ He added, a hint of a yawn threatening his voice.

 

Philip got up first, offering you a hand which you politely took. Max jumped to his feet as well; all the fun yet to tire him out. 

 

Waiting for Evan to break the trail, your little family strolled through the trees.

 

As you walked, you watched your feet, finding your legs getting heavier with every step. Much heavier.  
  
  
Was this mud?  
  


As you slogged along, it only worsened, trees giving way to reeds. The Swamp?

 

You stopped in your tracks. The Hag would be here…

 

Ahead of the pack, Max let out and excited bark of laughter, before slogging off deeper into the swamp. Nobody stopped him.

 

Evan did however turn to face you, placing a hand on your back.

 

“Guess we’re visiting Lisa before we head home.” He commented. Your steps slowed, almost to a stop.

 

“She’s a friend, y’don’t have to be cautious.” He encouraged, but you weren’t enthused. She was a cannibal. And you were suspiciously close to human.

 

Running up and down your arms with those charcoal clawed hands, you nodded, offering a smile you hoped he didn’t notice was fake. Your skin had gone clammy despite the humid air. As if you detect something bad was going to happen soon.

 

Evan seemed to smile back, continuing his methodical pace through the goopy sludge at your feet. You had no choice but to follow.

  
  
  


The boat was what yawned into view first, it’s shadow devouring the swamp in darkness. Even so, it was faintly lit by a string of lights; threaded through the railings of the bough. It matched the fireflies that flitted on the balmy swamp air.

 

Boarding the boat, you were greeted by the sounds of Max, and Phillips’s soft scolding puffs.

 

A dry voice cut through both their tones. 

 

“Now, now Philip, we could use his enthusiasm!” The voice rasped. Evan paused before you, allowing you to pass before barring your exit- his presence a gentle but persistent prompt.

 

“And who’s this?” The Hag, er, Lisa croaked, fixing her blackened eyes on your face. You moved your mouth to respond. “I’m-“ You paused, your skin suddenly prickling.

 

Your name. 

What was your name? 

 

You searched your brain but the word didn’t come. Even Sam was quiet the bond between you frozen.

 

How could you forget your own name!? 

You blanched, horrified. 

 

How far gone were you, that your own name had faded from memory? Panic threatened at the corners of your brain, like twisted spider legs. 

 

Lisa’s face fell a moment, but she recovered quickly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

 

“No matter, I’m sure it will come back to you!” Lisa stated, approaching you. Offering you a warm hug, you stiffly returned her gesture, shock making your limbs stiff and mechanical.

 

“Why don’t we sit down, relax a little.” She went on, thankfully drawing away the groups attention.

 

“Max honey if you could bring those deck chairs over, yes those ones.” She directed, gesturing into the console of the boat. your gaze didn't follow.

 

You turned away, towards Evan; allowing her to set up without your contribution. 

 

He wore an unreadable expression. Placing one heavy arm cross your shoulder he pulled you in close to his side. Even as you sat, he stayed pinned to you. You could feel his proud, hefty heartbeat through the flesh between you.

 

It was a blessing really, as your voice had died in your throat. A comfort you needed. 

 

Lisa sensed this too, and kept her light conversation concentrated on her other guests. 

 

Watching her speak, you found her language was hardly old, despite her appearance. You had always assumed The Hag- was just that. An old hag. But now that you could see her more clearly you realized she mustn’t have been more than thirty when she died. 

 

If she had died.

You couldn’t think of any other way someone could transitioned into such a beast. 

 

You had assumed her gaunt face was from age, but it was more like starvation. Even from where you sat, you could see her skin was gnarled with mutation but not age; it’s plains crisscrossed with root like formations. Right down to her wickedly clawed hands. Hands that weren't entirely unlike yours. You caught yourself staring at them and relented, your eyes drifting to the ominous dark view from off the boats edge.

 

The conversation stalled, Max fidgeting up a storm, his lopsided knees bouncing against Philip’s chair, which was set in close to his. It jostled the make-shift table in front of you, although Lisa didn't seem to mind. 

 

“Why don’t you and Max head back early?” Evan suggested, turning to Philip. Philip nodded, and you realized he looked tired. Perhaps traveling to his domain had taken a lot out of him. Or maybe it was the memory and reliving that was taxing… You gave him a wary smile, that he returned with a brief but curt nod. 

 

He stood and Max rose with him; giving Lisa a lopsided hug. Her smile was soft as she watched them go, before sitting down again. The atmosphere apprehensive and quiet. It took your own energy to not let your knee bounce, to forbid the anxiety gnawing at you from spreading. 

 

Lisa's eyes rocked between you and Evan.

 

“So; when did you get here?” She asked, he eyes passing over to you. 

 

“I- uh.” You began, unsure of how to go about telling a killer you used to be the bane of her existence.

 

“She arrived through the forest about a month ago.” Evan responded.

 

It had already been a month? Your knee began bouncing anyways. 

 

“Originally she was a survivor, but she’s been slowly changing since she came to us.” He went on to say.

 

Lisa nodded, looking thoughtful. Her gaze landed on you again, scanning you up and down. Your other knee started bouncing, not in tandem. 

 

“But not all at once?” Her question was rhetorical, and she say still, looking you over. You nodded, regardless. 

 

“I could try giving you a sigil, but I’m not sure it would work. Maybe it will stall the development?” She rubbed her chin, those long wicked claws tucked carefully underhand.

 

You sat up straighter. “Would something like that work?” You asked, hope swelling behind your ribs. Your knees ceased their bouncing. 

 

Lisa shrugged, getting to her feet.

 

“It’s worth a shot. Mind you these powers are rooted in the Entity. Dark magic is what changed me into this, it might not bode well for you.” She warned, and for the first time you met her glossy black eyes.  
  
So she hadn't been killed.

 

“I’m willing to try!” You nodded, getting to your feet. 

 

Evan’s hand closed over yours, causing you to face him.   
  
  
Even as he sat, he was nearly taller than you. 

 

“What if it makes things worse?” He asked, his tone unreadable.

 

You yanked your hand back. Temper flaring. “I’ve already forgotten my own name, how much worse could it get?” You growled, staring at the black pricks set in his mask.   
  
Why was he being so cautious? It wasn't exactly like you had any other options. 

 

Lisa paused where she stood, arms folded with calm interest. 

 

“I’m not your enemy, I just want you to consider the consequences. Lisa is talented at what she does, but her power comes from the same things that did this to you. What if that’s all him upstairs needs to turn the rest of you?”  

 

Evan responded back, his tone disturbingly calm. He slowly got to his feet, looming over you. Like a silent threat. You bristled. 

 

“And what if it’s my only salvation? What if that mark is the only things that’ll stop this-“ You gestured down your form. “From making me into some... _Monster_!” You spat back. 

 

Lisa turned, shaking her head. At the edge of the forest a fire ignited. 

 

“He’s calling me.” She warned, her cool dark eyes flitting from your face to Evan’s. In the muck sparks spat, threatening at the treeline. It was if the Entity understood what was happening.  Were those whispers at the edge of the forest?   
  
  
“I can’t wait any longer." Lisa grunted, her less gnarled hand pressed to her forehead. As if she were in pain. You could recall the headaches the entity brought. "  
  
Look. If you come to a decision and you want my help, you’re welcome back, but for now I have to go.”    
  


With that, she slung herself over the railing, landing with a squelch in the mud. 

 

“Wait, Lisa please!” You begged, running after her.

 

Evan’s arm caught you around the waist, restraining you before you could take the dive. 

 

“Evan! For fucks sake, let me go!” You snarled, pushing hard against his massive arms.

 

“I’m not doing this to hurt you, I just don’t want to be wrong.” Evan sighed, loosening his grip on you. 

 

Your tempter simmered. “I… I get it. But it isn’t up to you.” You freed your hands, shoving away the offending arm. He resisted a moment, before letting it fall. 

 

“Every minute I spend is another he might take something from me. I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose any more of myself.” You stated, shaking your head. 

 

“It’s turning me into a monster.” You added, talons clenching and unclenching. Your voice ad grown strained, your throat tight with emotion.

 

Behind you Evan grunted. It was the second time you had used the word, and it was jagged. A knife point jabbed in his direction. You recalled his reaction to it before.

 

“Monsters like us, right?” He shook his head, staring down at you. It was times like this you remember just how massive Evan was. Just how small he could make you feel. 

 

“If you’re turning into one of us, maybe it’s for a reason.” He said, his tone icy with finality. Not waiting for a response he turned away from you, retreating down the boat steps two at a time. 

 

You were taken aback by the words, unaware Evan was capable of making such a frigid accusation. It made you furious, but more so than that, hurt. Verbally trading blows with one of your closest friends here was hardly how you thought such a lovely night would end.   
  
“Evan…” You began, he was already down the stairs. “Evan!” You called, running to the edge of the railing. He hesitated, head cocked slightly in your direction. But all the words you wanted to say bubbled up at once. Nothing came you. __  
  
I’m sorry!  
I didn’t mean to say those things.   
  
  
  
You’re the only family I have left. 

 

 _“Don’t go.”_   Was all you managed.  
  
If he heard you, he made no effort to show it; his silhouette fading into the treeline. 

  
  



	9. Forced Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your recent outburst hasn't gone unnoticed; The Entity claims you, taking you to a realm you've never set foot in to blow off steam. What he expects to be a lesson in humility ends up being nothing short of a slaughtering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Chapters in one night? Woo doggies, let's just say I'm inspired. 
> 
> *Warning: This chapter is quiet violent

You were rooted to the spot, tears welling up in your eyes and spilling out down your cheeks. It was like your feet were encased in cement; and no matter how you twisted and turned, you just couldn’t break free. Like you were trapped in quicksand.    
  
You reached out to Sam, but it was as if someone had cut the line between you.   
  
“Evan!!” You screamed, your voice shrill and raw. Crows fluttered into the air at your anguish; and it ricocheted off the swampy realms boundaries, as if mockingly throwing the words back at you. You remained standing there, until your fingers became cold, before dropping down to your knees.   
  
How could you have said such things? How could he have cared so little? Why were you so angry? Why was he being so selfish? Emotions swirled inside of you, tumulant and billowing around like a hurricane.    
  
Letting out another agonized snarl, you lashed out, your one-finger-short hand splintering the balcony railing before you. Grasping the broken wood, you hurled it into the swamp, along with floorboards; which you tore from the ground below you like you they were nothing more than soggy crackers.   
  
Between pants, you thought you heard a voice. Raising your head, you glanced around. Whispering. Groaning. There was a faint pain in the back of your head.    
  
_ Why don’t you take that energy out on something else.  _ It hummed. The Entity.    
  
“Fuck you.” You hissed. There was a lance of pain in your head; that once again drove you to your knees.    
  
_ I didn't mean to neglect you, my precious child.  _   
  
The voice crooned, soft in your ear. You closed your eyes, hands over your ears as if you could blot out the sound.    
  
_ I made a new plaything. She’s so very... volatile, like you. Why don’t you and I pay her a little visit.  _   
  
The Entity moaned, its voice rasping but soft in your ear. Like a lovers murmur. You shook your head. It’s voice was inside your brain. Darkness closed around your body, and you whimpered, toiling and squirming around in the dark.    
  
It felt like you were falling. Pitching through the darkness, flipping from upright to off your feet in an instance. Then, just like that… You were standing.    
  
Tall grass gently blew, framing what looked to be a garden. It was overgrown, and slowly gave way to the tattered crumbling remains of some sort of house or temple. The architecture was Japanese, that much you knew.    
  
Somewhere, a soft groan carried on the breeze.    
  
_ Her name is Rin. She was a victim. Killed by her own father. Butchered alongside her Mother.  _   
  
You blinked, the whisper rasping right by you. A chill ran up your spine.    
  
_ She’s has so much rage inside; it motivates her, feeds her, keeps her living…  _ You bit your lip, craning your neck around. Unable to see the so called killer. Barely able to detect her.   
  
There was a triumphant ‘RAH’ from behind you, and you were shocked to feel a metal blade bite the flesh of your lower back.    
  
Pain, you whirled around, your right hand flashing as your sickle materialized. There. She was already several feet from you, slender and so small. So small compared to you. Her hair whirled above her in a storm of ebony.    
  
You could hear the glass crunch in her body as she moved.    
  
“We don’t have to fight. You don’t have to obey this, this  _ fucking  _ thing.” You shouted to her, carefully stalking in tandem to her movements. She laughed at this, throwing her head back. You tried not to look at the guts that glistened from the wound in her abdomen.    
  
“It wants this. It wants you to be angry. But it won’t… It won't get you anywhere.” You reasoned. You sounded, you hated to say it, but like Evan.    
  
The words you spoke to her, but in truth, they were really probably for you. Maybe the Entity knew that. Maybe that was why you were here. Maybe not. The Spirit swirled around you, you wouldn't let her have an opening.   
  
Flipping the sickle once in your hands, you charged after her, pelting across the ground with such speed, you were nearly gliding over the ground. When you were nearly upon her she turned suddenly, blade flashing.    
  
This time you caught it, in the teeth that marked your weapon. Sparks flashed, and she gave up a few steps, her expression pained.    
  
As she stood her form flickered, like a candle about to be blown out in the wind.    
  
“I don’t want to hurt you, Rin. Just listen to me; doing this, it isn’t gonna bring you happi-” Your voice was cut off as the form before you faded, another flash of steel making up crumple to one knee; as she cut your achilles tendon.    
  
As you cried out she slowly stalked before you. Her blade rested under your chin, forcing you to look up at her vacant white eyes.    
  
“I’m not going to be a victim anymore.” She whispered. She looked so young. No older than you. Than your friends. “If this is how I get my revenge…” She levied the blade. “So be it.” Before her katana could slash through your throat you were gone. Below you were the same overgrown gardens.   
  
What?   
  
Your head cocked to the side revealing black, inky wings. A raven. You had changed forms, or places... with a raven. It took you a moment to get your bearings. You were only about a forty feet away. But it was better than dead. You reached out to Sam again. Still nothing.    
  
_ God I hope he’s okay. _   
  
You couldn't think about it now.    
Dipping your wings, you fluttered closer to the ground. No sooner than when you outstretched your corvid legs, did your form return to you.    
  
Stumbling, you nearly fell, drawing yourself up with a pained grunt. Two wounds. You weren't going to be nearly as fast. You couldn’t let her sneak up on you again.   
  
Your eyes closed for a heartbeat, channeling another form, you opened your eyes. Peering through another one of your familiars. She was near some sort of gazebo. Or shrine. Returning to yourself you looked from left to right, spotting it a few yards away.    
  
Limping you found yourself a palette; crouching down beside it. All she would need to do it follow the blood…   
  
That sweet soft whisper neared you. Only a moment longer… Just as she materialized; blade bared you dodged behind the palette, slamming it down on her newly formed body.    
  
Furious. She was furious. The wood shattered on impact, showering you in splinters. What? Just, what? Her sword forked towards you, just barely missing your head. Bunching the muscles of your good leg, you turned, leaping at her.    
  
Smaller than you, she fell back with a grotesque crunching of glass. The fibers slicing into your own flesh. She raised her weapon but you managed to catch her wrist. Talons seizing her.    
  
Letting out a sharp, frustrated cry she clawed at you with her free hand; which you swatted away with your weapon.    
  
Raising it in a high arc above your head, you nearly brought it down, when her figured vanished from beneath you. Shit.   
  
_ Where _ … You thought, spinning around as quickly as your leg would allow. Somewhere a raven was disturbed, you arced your head towards it. Using what energy you could, you forced yourself into its place, a sharp flood of feather and inky black substance erupting to reveal your form.    
  
You caught a glimpse of her running alongside the rice-paper walls. Metastasizing your energy, you aimed it in her direction and just like that the ravens in the area arose, swarming to her location. Few were swift enough to do any damage, but the ruckus was unmistakable.    
  
Limping, you rounded the opposite bend, cutting off her only exit. In one swift movement you extended your scythe; hooking her around the midsection and dragging her back towards you.    
  
A scream escape her as you twisted your weapon in one vile movement. If a fight is what the Entity wanted... He would have it. You growled at her, low and cold and animalistic beyond yourself.    
  
You were one with your inner beast, the power flooding to and from you like cold ocean waters. Using your other hand you slashed at her, and she relented a step. Her expression twisted in an array of emotions.    
  
Flickering metal to your left, you parried. Then again to your right, you parried. A cheap stab at you gut, that met nothing but fabric. You rotated the scythe in a half circle, jabbing her in the wound on in her own stomach with the blunt bone end of your club. She let out a hiss of pain, followed by a sudden flurry of sword slashes. You struggled to make it out of the way, fumbling as you put weight on your bad ankle.    
  
In one swift movement she overtook you, taking a step so close you were forced to take another step back. You took a half step, before changing your mind, and charging her again.   
  
Forcing her to drop her sword she braced herself, hands against your shoulders, your scythe fell beside you, you pushed back, hands on hers. Talons shredding through her cool toned skin like butter.   
  
She let out another anguished cry, and after a few more seconds of struggle her elbows buckled. It caught you off guard, and your cheekbone met her shoulder. Her studded glass shoulder. The pain was immense, and you blinked away tears at the glass that macerated your face.    
  
You put a hand to it and it came away bloody. Blinking, our vision remained clouded. Dark. She had partially blinded you.    
  
_ What a shame, I thought you were better. _ The Entity sighed, its voice soft in your ear.    
  
_ If you can’t protect yourself, how are you going to protect your little friend?  _ Your eyes widened at that. “Sam?” You gasped, taking your eyes off of Rin for just a moment. Her figure vanished into the night.    
  
_ I couldn’t let him see you in such a state, I’m taking wonderful care of him. But I think Rin could do better. I’m sure she would be eager to meet him after this little… play date.  _ _   
_ _   
_ Your throat tightened. Not Sam. She couldn’t have Sam. She would kill him.    
  
Sam was all you had. He was your only anchor to your old life. Your best friend since you were kids. You had killed him, you couldn't let anything happen to him now. Not again.    
  
Tears blotted your vision. Taking a deep breath you slowly slid to your knees. You would show this monster. You would show him exactly what kind of monster he had made.    
  
  
_ I can feel it.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _   
_ _ A lancing stab of pain through the back of your skull; like the clawed end of a hammer. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ That seeping feeling, the rage. _ _   
_ _ It’s  like every artery, vein, capillary is burning and wrenching around inside of you. The feeling is downright indomitable. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ For a few wrenching heartbeats you think you might die, then it retreats to a sluggish insidious pulsing. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Just like that you’re veiled in it. _ _   
_ _   
_ Whatever form you managed to take, it’s strong. So much stronger than anything you could have imagined. Syphoned directly from The Entity itself.  _ My own. _ It had said. It was right. You were born of it.    
  
There was a reason your scythe looked like it’s spidery claws. Your movement is a blurr, one moment your hunkered over with your slashed tendons and the next you’re hurting after Rin’s smoky form. The invisibility is nothing compared to your speed. Her sword is nothing compared to your scythe.    
  
Blood splashes on your face.   
  
It’s warm.    
  
Rin, clawing, tearing at your flesh in vein.   
  
You can only see half her face.    
  
Copper is in the air.   
  
Your hands are sticky. A laugh bubbles up from you, bitter and sadistic.    
  
There’s a furious energy around you but it isn't your victim. It’s The Entity. You drop you scythe, using your claws instead. It’s so much more fun that way.   
  
A spine emerges from behind you, it plunges through your shoulder blade, but it can’t stop you. You’ve almost won.    
  
There’s pain in your brain, so horrible it makes you want to vomit but you won’t stop. She’s almost gone. You could free her, just a few more slices. That’s all it would take. Blood spurts from your lips as another spine burrows through your back, emerging from the center of your torso. That one hurt. Your grip relaxes a moment and that’s all it takes.    
  
Whisked rapidly backwards The Entity wraps it’s slender spines around your torso, chest, hips, legs. You’re pinned against the ground. You crane your neck against the restraints. It lifts Rin away, into the sky.    
  
__ You, what have you done? The Entity whispers, there’s a smile on your lips.  
  
  
All you can feel is agony. 


	10. Lullaby for the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take your punishment, and it's brutal. But it isn't all bad, there is always tender hands to care for you; even here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: The first paragraph is basically torture porn, lol 
> 
> Also, there is another language in this chapter. I don't speak it so google translate is my bae. If you happen to know it and wish to correct me, be my guest! As well, it is worth putting into google, I wrote some cute stuff int here, hehe.

Wrenching, muscle tearing and flesh being gouged out.   
  
Bile makes your lips burn and you gag out a wrenching cry as another unyielding tremor of pain shakes your frame. Even through all the torment there’s a gnarled smile on your face. A spiny spider limb forces its way up through your guts, emerging from between your collar bones. 

 

You wish you could pass out. Fade away.

But it won't stop.

The Entity won't stop. 

You should have been long dead by now. 

 

A glimmer flashes past your vision; of Sam. That same moment of when you killed him. Wrended his corpse open like some sort of meaty gift. Whatever effect it had on your mental state had faded, you've been forced to watch it a million times now. However long you’ve been suspended here. It's all the Entity can find that still makes your heart twist.    
  
At the back of your mind you know it's trying to break you. But it just can't quite do it. It's power is sapped. From you stealing it and from having to put it’s new toy back together. You had been so close. So close to freeing Rin and you knew it. Perhaps she knew it. The Entity certainly did.    
  
That’s why it was trying so hard. Liquid filled your lungs again and you struggle to cough it out around the curling and uncurling spines that pinned your ribcage in place. It bubbled out of your nose.    
  
_ You will suffer.  _ __  
__  
The Entity hissed.    
  
And you did.   
  
  
Clarity slowly began to return to you, it was dark. Very dark. Blinking you wiped away the crimson that covered your eyes.    
  
Slowly your vision returned to you, blood gently being cleansed away by what you gradually realized was rain.    
  
Flat on your back you lay amongst a grassy meadow; trees loomed around you, as if holding their breath. Somewhere a fire burned, causing smoke to tint the air with a sour tang. For a moment your heart beat faster. The clearing? Struggling to sit up you let out a gasp, copper filling your mouth.    
  
Relinquishing in pain you toppled over, once again on your back. Your body bristled with wounds; left over from your little excursion.   
  
You should be dead, really.    
  
Raising one taloned hand you found it doused in dried blood, wiggling you digests you noted they were sore.    
  
Flickering,a light caught your eye and you turned your hand slowly to view the stump. It had an orange sheen to it. Almost like breathing embers.    
  
Raising one leg with a tremendous grunt of effort, you saw the same went for your formerly slashed tendon. It was healed. Kind of like when your friends finished a trial.    
  
That was unique. Killers didn’t heal. Only survivors.    
  
You lowered your leg back to the ground as gently as you could manage.   
  
Somewhere behind you a branch creaked. Craning your head to see what it was, your eyes met the stark white of a mask.    
  
They were tall, almost six foot eight.

 

Evan? Your heart soared.   
  
No. They stalked closer.

 

Myers.   
  
Horror made your stomach lurch. You were in no shape for a fight. Panic made you sit up suddenly.   
  
Pain lanced your body; which you tried to resist. Another spurt of blood spewed from you mouth. Forcing your arms to support your weight you barely managed to get onto one knee before your body shut down.   
  
Flat on you face- you were barely aware of a voice, a woman’s voice. Humming softly to you in a melody you gradually realized you knew.

 

_ The Huntress.  _ __  
__  
\---   
  
Waking up the second time was far more pleasant. Rest assured, you were still in agony. Being dumped in the middle of a forest after what, hours? Days? Of torture does that to a person.    
  
Gently, someone rubbed a cloth across underside of your eye. Your bad eye. Whatever water they used was scented; combined with some sort of herbs that made the smoky air smell bitter and planty. Letting out a low moan, you slowly opened your eyes. It was darker still, and it took you a moment to realize you were in a building.    
  
Mother’s Dwelling. The name came to you, the center of The Huntress’s domain.    
  
Slowly scanning the room, you took in the interior. The warm wooden walls and the charms and little objects that littered the hand carved shelves; so much more detailed than the home you remembered. Perhaps you hadn’t looked hard enough. Your doctor continued her pace; gently dabbing at your cheeks. It stung, but it was dull compared to the rest of your bodily aches.    
  
Eventually you turned your gaze to her, well, half of it; your left eye still cloudy with damage. To your surprise she wasn't wearing her mask. Pretty; she had strong features, a bowed nose from no doubt being broken, and a lattice of little scars from battles she had seen. Her hair was dark brown, sheared short and sticking up in places. Most interesting of all were here eyes, masked in dark circles of what you assumed was paint, her sclera was a deep inky black; with the iris of her eye a vibrant hue of what you could only describe as pinkish. Pinkish red.    
  
Catching your gaze she paused, and you swiftly glanced away. Huffing in a short bark of laughter she tucked a hand under your chin, turning your face back to hers. Were your cheeks getting red? M-maybe. 

 

A smile played across her scarred lips and she spoke; “ Zakroy glaza.” She murmured, and you gently leaned back again. Something about her tone made you relax, so you closed your eyes; not knowing it had been exactly what she had asked.    
  
At some point you must have fallen asleep; as you awoke once with a chill. From your bleary vision you saw your captor carefully binding one of your wounds. You were naked; unabashedly so, but it didn't really bother you. You were so comfortable.    
  
You phased out again, this time awakening to the scent of food. Strong arms guided your aching body into an upright position, carefully pressing a clay bowl into your hands. “S"yedat'.” The Huntress prompted.    
  
You put the bowl to your lips and drank. It was delicious. Salty and rich and fatty, with a bitter hint. You were knocked on your ass within minutes. Potent herbs, those were.   
  
It became a sort of tradition. You would awake to soft humming, to steam curling under your chin. Huntress would tell you to drink, and you would, and then you would sleep. A deep, painless lullaby of sleep.    
  
Days passed like this, before you were finally strong enough to get up, easing onto weak and weary legs. The Huntress was gone that day, but you figured she would return soon. You made it to the table before you had to stop for a break; a cloak of furs wrapped around your shoulders to keep out the cold. Resting on the surface was a blunt piece of wood. Slowly it was being carved, shavings still littering the surface along with a carving knife that looked to be crafted from a broken bayonet. It was a birds mask. Not like a plague doctor or anything of that sort. More like, an elegant masquerade mask.    
  
Behind you there was a quiet clank; and you slowly turned to see The Huntress wander into the entryway. Masked in blood, she had the haunches of a buck slung over her shoulder as if it weighed less than a loaf of bread.   
  
“Welcome home.” You stated, your voice gravelly but not altogether too bad.    
  
The Huntress smiled at this, heaving the hunk of meat onto the wood beside you; far enough to avoid the shaving but close enough to send a shower of them dusting your fur cloak. Steam still curled off of the quarters. It made that feral part of you growl with hunger.    
  
Huntress moved around behind you, removing her outdoor clothes and returning a few moments later with a hide apron. Humming the same melody she usually did, she produced a knife, and began filleting the hide from the meat and the meat off the bone.    
  
“Vy bodrstvuyete, eto khorosho.” She stated, nodding to you. Not knowing what she said you just nodded, earning her a brief laugh.    
  
“I... do you have a name?” You asked. This earned a pause.   
  
“Anna.” She said after a moment, her accent curling the words.  _ Anna.  _ Another name to add to your growing list.    
  
“Kak vas zovut?” She asked, tilting her head. You could only guess she was asking for yours. A soft grunt escaped your lips as you suddenly recalled the incidents prior. It was so easy to put aside with all the trauma you had been through. But now that you thought about it; that same deep seed of anguish returned. It throbbed in your gut, making you feel sick. Evan. Philip. Max. God, they must be so worried.    
  
Your brow furrowed. But… Would they be? After what you had said would they really be upset? Would they still care? Clenching your jaw, you felt tears prick in your vision. Gently, Anna raised a hand, placing it under your chin.    
  
“Takaya pechal' vyglyadit nepriyatno na vashem litse.” She stated, shaking her head. You blinked, not knowing what she said but appreciating the tone.    
  
“Yesli vy nenazvannyy, ya pozvonyu vam...” She went on, rubbing one thumb over your cheek. Her hand dropped, and your cheeks reddened again.    
  
“W-what?” You murmured.    
  
“Your name.” She said after a moment, looking up at the ceiling as if in thought.    
  
“Dolzhno byt' ... Noch'.” Anna finished. Another few moments passed before she was able to relay it back to you.    
  
“You should be having… Name of…” She fought for a moment for the word. “The Night, Noch.” Smiling at that, she continued her cutting.    
  
“Noch, is night?” You asked. She nodded. You found that ironic. A notch was the first thing you had received in your weapon. It seemed fitting. 

  
“Why Night? Er, Noch?” You asked. Anna didn’t look up this time.    
  
“Tak kak... because... ty temnyy i krasivyy; Is dark but beautiful.” She went on, not looking up from where she worked.    
  
Your cheeks reddened again, and you hiked your feet up onto the chair you sat on, wrapping the cloak a little tighter. Anna was nice. Really nice.   
  
The night you spent watching Anna cook, drying meat and rendering fat for stew. Where she had hunted a deer you weren't sure, but you supposed there were animals here. Even if they weren't quite right. As she went on you checked yourself over, cataloging your wounds. 

  
For the most part they were healing up, leaving behind nothing but an amber scar, blackened at the edges as if tainted. But no longer hurting. That was with the exception of one hooked spine which resided jabbed through your shoulder blade. Where a hook would be. It didn't hurt, no, tender maybe but not painful. It almost felt as though it were a part of you. And you swore, if you tried, you may even be able to move it But you didn’t try.    
  
At the end of the night Anna changed the pace taking you upstairs one slow step at a time. There she showed you a trunk; which was to your surprise- filled with clothes. They were old fashioned. A style distinctly out of your time zone, but nice nonetheless. 

  
Anna suggested the dresses, soft and frilled. But you turned them down; much to her disappointment. Well, okay not without tying them on (which she loved) thought you settled on a tunic and trousers.    
  
Once dressed, you rounded, Anna holding up a small sliver of glass, so you could see yourself for once.    
  
You were… taken aback. It had been a long time since you had seen yourself. Your heart almost broke. Taller, thinner, or rather, leaner. Clawed charcoal coloured hands; hooked with gnarled talons. Feathers had begun sprouting further up your arms, to your shoulders… You crouched, taking the mirror to examine your face. Your eyes were what seemed the least familiar. Your sclera was inky black. Like some sort of demon. Not unlike Anna’s. And your iris; it was the same burning ember colour, so vibrant it nearly glowed. Your left eye was different, your pupil no longer black but a milky off-white. Angry red scars latticed across your cheekbone and brow, scoring through your eyebrow.    
  
You didn’t look like you anymore. Anna must have sensed your disdain, as she pressed a strong comforting hand to your shoulder. She held you as you cried.    
  
That night… As you slept that night you felt your strength returning to you.   
  
  
  
That morning; Anna was gone.   
On the table was a strip of dried meat, and a hand scrawled note.    
_  
_ _ “Is time you are going home, I am enjoyed you here. Come back soon. I have made, something for you. To hide the night is a shame, but if it is bring you comfort, I am happy.” _

  
The mask was finished. Ebony and intricately carved. Lifting it, you placed it against your face, it held, despite the lack of fastenings; as if it had always been there.    
  
Taking the meat you tore off a strip, exiting the door, and heading  _ home.  _   
  
Suppose the boys would be missing you right?    
  
_ God you hoped you were right.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof! I'm so happy I finally got to post this. Between you and I Monstrous readers this is my fav fic to right. The words just kind of;flow out which is really nice. I've been having a lit of trouble writing Hex as of late(A Michael Myers x Reader fic) And this has been really refreshing <3 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I would die for all of you. huehue


	11. The Weight of Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months in The Huntress's domain you finally return home. Will anyone recognize you? And Evan... Could he possibly forgive you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey guys!! I'm alive!!
> 
> I wish I could say the old love was rekindled in my heart, which is why I returned to update; but it was actually brought on by a friend of mine offering to write me a Huntress x Me drabble. and really who could pass that up. That isn't to say I didn't have a blast!! I've been so stressed trying to find a new job I kind of forgot how much I loved to write. I make no promises I will update regularly, but here's hoping I can pump out another few chapters before dropping dead again.
> 
> This chapter has a lot of emotion; that I had building over the series, so I hope you enjoy!  
> Also; feel free to support me by buying me a Kofi; ko-fi.com/clockworkcryptid

Cool wind stirred your hair as you stalked through the trees; the rain had stopped for now; leaving the Red Forest smelling sweet. A small part of you wished to linger; afraid to face the family you had come to make. There were so many ‘What-if’s’ and you put your best effort into not thinking about, well, any of them.

It was harder than it seemed. 

Pushing the worry away you instead focused on the meat you had been given. Well seasoned, dry, rich, it was so much better than the emptiness you had gotten used to as both a killer and survivor. Wow did you miss food. 

What you wouldn't give for a nice big, greasy pizza. Or a cupcake. God. Steak. Bacon. Even a bologna sandwich.

The thought made your restless mind flicker back to Sam and you frowned. You had unfortunately been unable to contact him in your time with Anna. Not for lack of trying. It was as though he had been locked away somewhere; just out of your reach. You only hoped it was somewhere safe. The Entity’s threat was still very much fresh in your mind.

Drawing a sigh you continued your pace, gradually worrying yourself into an uneasy jog. Heavily leafed branches gave way to the tall, dark oaks that were so similar to the ones that clawed the skies around the clearing. In truth you hoped you were going the right way; really you had just picked a direction and started walking. That was generally how you ended up where you needed to be.

After another half hour or so of walking you slowed.  
Cresting the treeline you saw the spiral of smoke in the distance, followed by the scent of the campfire. Your heart clenched, and you slowed to a walk. As the clearing yawned into view you paused, eyes scanning the perimeter for you friends. 

At first glance you thought it was empty; until Philip’s lanky figure strode out from the shack. 

Clenching and unclenching your hands you resisted the urge to sprint out into the field. Last thing you wanted was to give Philip a scare, no matter how much you wanted to hug him. To hold any of them. 

In two slow steps you crossed into the open space; slowly approaching the fireside. Philip didn't take note; busy stirring the coals and maintaining the flames. It was only when you got about forty feet away that he spotted you; standing suddenly. 

Gently raising your arm you offered a wave, coming to a stop. For a few moments Philip just stared at you; before taking a very deliberate step back. In a flourish of sparks he summoned his club, stamping his feet and waving it at you.

Did he not… recognize you..? One brief glance down at yourself led you to believe that was probably a yes. You were in fact larger, battered, masked, and in different clothes. You doubted you even smelled like you anymore. Not to mention the eyes. Orange, ominous, eyes.  
Hurt made your throat close up, and you failed to make any noises of reassurance above a soft grunt. It hurt; to see him again. More than you had expected; you never imagined they would fail to recognize you. It caught you off guard. 

Philip paused for a moment, turning his head to glance behind him. 

There, striding along from behind the shack was Evan; with Max shadowing him like a puppy. It became apparent that they were both wet, as though they had just bee of bathing somewhere. Clothes surprisingly devoid of dirt; they looked so… alive.  
Evan even had his mask off- a rare sight. You had never seen his face before, you realized. He was handsome, with a strong jawline and prominent facial scarring.  
The fact your eyes had never met it... It reminded you how little you actually knew about your friends. 

No sooner than when he spotted you did Evan swiftly sling it back into place; taking a protective stance in front of Max. Not even Evan recognized you. 

Biting your lip you hold back a noise of hurt.  
In the recesses off your mind, you feel the faintest desire to bolt back into the woods. A soft voice lulling you into action. It’s an effort to force yourself to stay.

Slowly, you raise your hands in front of you; exposing that one digit short finger. Philip lets out a soft noise of recognition, and takes a few steps in your direction. Behind him Evan grunts a warning; but Philip is already lowering his mallet, allowing it to pass back into ash in his hands.

In the same gesture you raise your hands to your face, removing the mask. 

The reaction is immediate; and Philip lets out a loud noise of distress, his hands clutching at his chest. Crossing the clearing in moments he arrives at your side, cupping your face in his hands. His voice is a non-stop onslaught of soft croons as he gently runs his thumbs over your network of new scars. 

Pressing his forehead to yours he all but purrs; before pulling back and wrapping you in his arms. To your dismay he even lifts you off the ground; holding you like one might hold a child at their hip. You accept the affection, trying desperately not to cry. God you had missed this. 

Philip turned, eagerly carrying you back towards his other two companions. Max was peering around Evan’s side; owl eyed. His mouth parted slightly. 

No sooner than when he catches your gaze does he explode past Evan; limping his way over as swiftly as his little legs can take him. You are glad to be in Philips arms once more, as it saves you from a well-meaning tackle. 

“You came back!”  
Was all he manages, before bursting into an ugly sob. He hugs your legs-the only part Philip allows him to reach, and you can't help but pass a hand over his head; gently soothing his grief. And yours. 

Glancing over his shoulder your eyes land on your largest companion.  
Evan.

Slowly Philip lowers you to the ground; and you take a few eager steps towards him; Max still clinging to your waist. 

For a few minutes the giant regards you; hands limp at his sides. You take another step in his direction, your lips parted. You have so much you want to say. So many things to apologize for; to thank him for... He turns, slowly beginning to walk away. 

Fear hits you like a punch in the gut; and you falter. It was happening again. 

“Evan!” You called after him; for the second time. 

***

It’s less hard, this time. Max and Philip seem to sense your distress and get to work busily trying to cheer you up. Philip builds a roaring fire; and Max begins showing you a rather impressive pile of crow feathers he had begun to collect (just for you!). 

As he explains where and how he acquired each, you can't help but smile. It feels good to be missed. At your side Philip is all affections, never straying more than a few feet away. Currently he sat behind you. 

As Max lapsed into silence; Philip spoke up. Er, gestured up; pointing to the mask. 

“Ah, I got that from a friend.” You laughed, holding up the gorgeous carving. It really was something to behold. 

Such an article didn't come without a story after all; so you told them; leaving out the worst of your battle. 

By the time the sky grew from pale gray to black Max was asleep where he sat; with Philip slowly drifting off at your side. Your trio tucked into the shack for the night, Philips insisted on tucking you in with your blanket. It felt nice. So good to be back home. 

 

But there was a rift. A distinct emptiness at your side.  
No matter how hard you tried to sleep, you couldn't. You needed to speak to Evan. 

So; when Philip’s breathing evened into a deep cycle you rose, wandering your way back into the forest.

You of course hadn’t a clue where he went. So you sent out your feathered friends; intent on locating the lumbering man. You were not cemented to the spot this time. He wouldn’t evade you. 

Besides; something in your heart told you… If you walked you would find him. So you did. Well. Sort of. On borrowed wings you soared through the trees, not daring to stop until the tug became almost unbearable. It was here that You dropped to your feet; surrounded by the MacMillan estate. 

Yawning before you was a building you had never seen before. A house; a great sprawling mansion of a house. Even as you approached you felt a distinct wrongness. As if it were some place you weren’t supposed to go. You crossed the threshold regardless. 

Approaching the front door you hesitated, before rapping your knuckles against the wood twice. It was like an offence to the building, the noise echoing off the aged architecture as though warning you to leave. 

Backing up a few steps you spotted an open window; and with the help of one of your avian friends; your inky feathered form filled the sill. It yawned in a hallway; with only one such door open. 

Light flooded onto the moth eaten carpet; colouring it a sickly pale orange. It lie in no ordinary shape, rather scattering little triangles, as though reflecting off of something. 

Softly stepping down, you crept down the hall. Pausing at the doorway; before leaning to peer in.  
It was a massive master bedroom.  
And it was trashed. Ornate dressers shattered into splinters; a bed frame wrecked and ruined; the boxspring ripped apart and lying useless to the side. It was layered with dust, although not so much as the lamps you had passed. A few months it had sat, perhaps. 

In the center of the floor was a pool of glass, which glittered ominously in the space in front of you. 

You crossed the domain; almost failing to see the lumbering form silhouetted in the room over. An attached bathroom; merifully untouched save for the bare square on the wall where a mirror had no doubt been gouged out and shattered. 

Blood connected the two together, dripping onto the porcelain of the bathroom. 

Your breath caught in your chest as you saw him. He had his head bowed, his form slumped against the tub, hands resting in his lap; torn scarlet. 

It was odd. You expected to be… Upset. Angry, or sad, or hurt; but instead you felt strangely calm. You stepped over the glass, your scaled feet far too hard to be damaged by such trivial obstacles. 

Standing before the man you slowly lowered into a crouch. His chest heaved- letting you know he was alive- if not entirely well. Taking a seat opposite to him, you outstretched a hand, clasping one of his. It was warm, sticky with drying gore.

“Evan.” You said finally. Your voice echoing back at you in the pristine prison.  
His head did not move to greet you, or to even acknowledge that you spoke. It was… unnerving. 

Shuffling closer, you searched his mask. The holes that hid his eyes were as dark as ever. And you relented. 

“Evan, look at me.” You said again, the firmness in your voice causing his chin to jerk slightly away from you. Biting your lip to maintain your composure, you took a breath; tighten your grip on the hand that had slowly begun trying to recede from your grasp. 

“I’m sorry. For everything I said back with Lisa.” You began.

As if jabbed he pulled away again, this time making to stand. 

He wouldn’t walk away from you again. 

Tapping into that horrific strength, you placed your free hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down. 

“And I’m sorry for calling you… a monster. You’ve helped me all these months and I’ve done nothing to show how much that means to me. You guys are my family and-” Beneath your hand you felt muscles contract, a moment before Evan forced himself to his feet; despite your efforts. 

Wrenching his hand from your grasp, you faltered a moment, fear being swiftly replaced with anger. Was he going to run away again? You wouldn’t allow it!

“Evan, just lis-”

“No!” He said suddenly, his voice so loud, and so harsh in the space you staggered another step back; into the bedroom so recently destroyed. 

“No…” He said again, softer, as though realizing you were afraid. 

“Walking away from you… Was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” 

He stated in turn, his face gazing at the glass reflecting your scarred, startled expression. The blood smattering the fragments, colouring your features red. 

Your eyes widened. 

“I thought… If I said those things, it would make you realize that you don’t belong here. With us. You are nothing like us. We, truly are monsters. You’re… Just a girl that got ensnared by the Entity. Of course you would think we're monsters. Each one of us… Our hands…” He paused, staring down at his own, now dripping more steadily from being torn from you. 

“They’re drenched in blood we can never hope to wash off. Our ledgers aren’t just written in red, they’re drowning in it. Every day, seeing you with us was a reminder of that.”

Grief bloomed in your chest at his words, and one hand clenched there, as if you could hold it in physically. 

“When I saw you in the clearing, I didn't recognize what you had become. I thought you were… some piece of the entity given flesh… And then when I saw your hands… God… If I had just succeeded all those months ago on the boat…” 

“I thought…”

“I thought that if I could sever the bond between us all, you could go back. That Him Upstairs would see the mistake he had made trying to change you, and revert you back… Or something... “ He allowed the words to hang in the air, slowly dropping his hands back to his sides. 

“Having to watch you lose parts of yourself… It's almost intolerable. The pain you must feel that none of us can stop.”

You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, as if sensing you wanted to speak; despite his eyes still being on the floor. 

“From the first day I saw you, I liked you. Your bravery, your fire; sticking it to that Myer’s prick. How kind you were to Max- that’s how I knew I was being selfish… See I was the one who decided you should stay with us…” 

Finally; his gaze lifted, eyes pooled with grief. It ran down his neck beneath his mask. 

“It hurts, it hurts so fucking much watching someone so undeserving being dragged through all this pain. Every little change, it- It wrecked me inside… If I had just… threatened you. Or killed you, that first day you came here; maybe none of this wouldn't have happened… If I wasn’t so selfish I could have kept you from all this pain…”

Unblinking, you watched as he raised his hands, removing his mask; and letting it clatter to his side. Finally. Finally, his eyes met yours. 

Your knees shook, the shock of hearing this all anew rocking your to your core. The sudden understanding was sickening, you felt as though you might genuinely be in shock. 

Evan searched your face a moment, when he spoke again, his voice was grave.

“I’m sorry.”

He finished, and you could see his breath hitching; barely containing the emotion. Never had you seen such vulnerability in someone, let alone someone like Evan.

Crossing the space between the pair of you in an instant, you closed your arms around him; burying your face in his chest. Your emotions slipping away from you once more you cried- an ugly snotty mess which was met with a breathlessly tight hug.

“Y-you don't have to be sorry. Evan… I understand. And I appreciate it. How hard you tried… This…” You paused, taking a moment to steady your breath. “It isn’t your fault, I want you to understand that.” You stated.

He didn’t respond; at first; instead letting out a deep sigh. After a moment, he took your hand, pulling away just to meet your gaze. 

“Okay.” 

You nodded, offering the first genuine smile you had cracked that night, the weight of the past few months trauma lifting from your shoulders. 

“You know I fought the new killer.” You began.

After an hour of regalling Evan with tales of your bravery, the atmosphere had become quite calm. Hands bandaged with the cleanest of the aging towels; the pair of now lay stacked, Evan bearing your weight as you lay across his chest; in the only clean spot in the room- the tub. 

He seemed to be interested in how you drew energy from the Entity; as well as the new killer. But more so than both; he seemed especially keen on your time with the Huntress. 

“Y’know, you smell of her.” He grunted, one bandaged hand caressing the scales on the back of yours. 

“And?” You asked playfully, arching an eyebrow in his direction. Your eyes lingered on his newly unmasked face. 

“I'd rather you smelled of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you know what's gonna happen next chapter ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I've had this idea kicking around for a while, and I've finally sat down to write it. It's gonna be a long haul and I appreciate all the love and support I can get. Even the shortest comments go a long way in motivating this busy body into writing more.
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, please consider supporting me through my Ko-fi;  
> http://ko-fi.com/clockworkcryptid  
> Anyone kind enough to donate gets a little gift in return. <3 
> 
> Lastly, special thanks to Alexis for motivating me to finally write this!


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